


Birthright

by Bloodorange_sorbetto



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Amahara, Angels, Angels vs Demons, Distant past AU, F/M, Gen, M for violence, Mephisto as a father, Other, and maybe like ONE sexy scene, dad!mephisto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodorange_sorbetto/pseuds/Bloodorange_sorbetto
Summary: "I really thought you would have better developed instincts by now in your old age."Amaimon growled, refusing to stand down without an answer whether it cost him this body or not."What's the matter?" Samael pouted his lips and asked mockingly, "Did she scare you, little brother?"...Before the rise of Satan, demon kings roamed the Earth masquerading as gods, lording over humans and Assiah. Over centuries, the kings began to squabble, warring over bodies and territory, eventually attracting the attention of creatures more powerful than demon kings in the realm of the physical. With the threat of banishment to Gehenna looming in his near future, Samael resorts to developing the ultimate weapon to secure his right to manifest in Assiah. Distracted by the labyrinth of schemes of his own construction, Samael soon finds that the abomination he created is well beyond his control.





	1. Family Reunion

"Surely, we can all agree it cannot be allowed to continue." 

Lucifer's sharp voice from the head of the table cut across rabble in the chamber, silencing his squabbling brothers. Opposite him across the long, polished sandalwood table laden with the barely touched courses of a feast, umber eyes flashed with excitement. The corner of Samael's mouth twitched as he recognized the opening Lucifer had unwittingly given him among the chaos.

At least once every decade, the eight demon kings sat at this same banquet table in Lucifer's grand ballroom and held a formal meeting in the King of Light's Byzantine palace. While other kings could easily accommodate such a gathering, the meetings were always held when and where Lucifer deemed appropriate due to the limitations of his vessels. The corporeal kings were to make every effort to attend or else face the madness of the crossed Light King. Rewards were handed out from time to time at the meetings, but more often punishments were to be expected, the most severe of all: forcible return to Gehenna via painful destruction of vessel at the hands of Lucifer himself or, occasionally, Samael.

While admittedly politically uncomfortable, Lucifer did host the kings in absolute luxury at each meeting without fail. Honey-soaked breads, candied fruits, wine and fine cannabis stuffed hookah were piled high on every table in the palace. There were endless plays, songs and tournaments in the days before the meeting for early arrival's entertainment. In the evenings, hot baths with any soak one might want, luxurious quarters with soft mattresses and fine linens, escorts and companions. Any Earthly pleasure a demon could want, all of it available in excess. All out of Lucifer's bountiful goodwill, of course. What demon king could resist the call of such delights and risk the wrath of their superior?

The meetings and offerings served as both stick and carrot, the true purpose being Lucifer's paranoid need to monitor the other kings, constantly watching for signs of rebellion among the kings and probing developing factions or alliances before they became troublesome to him. Usually, the gatherings devolved into mediation sessions with the higher kings resolving petty disputes between the lower. Most resolutions involved some penalty for the offending party and drawing territorial boundaries to prevent any bad blood from escalating to large scale feuds or to full blown war. Even minor clashes between kings could be devastating to the humans and cities that served them. The arrangements were often tumultuous and temporary, but the system had been effective so far in preventing the destruction of the civilized world.

At Lucifer's implicit demand for silence, the present demon kings sunk back into their seats. Of the seven others, only Samael, Iblis, Azazel and Amaimon were in attendance this year. 

The only corporeal demon king missing was Astaroth, though this was by design rather than a slight by the rot king. His presence would have made conspiring against him considerably harder. Though if he had been present, Lucifer might have done away with his, currently, most troublesome brother already in his impatience, ruining the delicately balanced sequence of events Samael was just beginning to tease out of this otherwise worthless meeting.

After only 3 years, it seemed Lucifer's latest vessel had almost reached its limit. His constant haze of pain made him perpetually irritable and impatient, his decisions sloppily reckless. He acted without strategy or care and took well-placed advice without pause. The perfect opponent to play in circles.

Samael rested an elbow on the table and swept his long fingers across his chin, playing with his beard.

"Of course, my brother," he spoke, his smirk present in the breath of his words much to the visible displeasure of Iblis and Azazel. The Fire and Spirit kings eyed Samael warily as his silver tongue flickered to life.

"We must take action, or everything will be destroyed. After all, we owe the pleasures of Assiah to the flourishing Earth. While contained to the Far East for now if this mindless rampage continues, I fear the destruction will ultimately create a world as excruciatingly unstimulating as Gehenna itself. Allowing this to continue could absolute disturb the order of things to the point of Heavenly intervention." Azazel tilted his head back a moment as though in thought. Samael watched. The argument for balance should just barely tilt Azazel in his favor as well.

"And what, exactly, should we do, Samael?" sneered Iblis, recognizing Samael's intent, "Kill him?" 

She turned her gaze to the King of Spirits for support, but she was too late. He faltered and looked away, saying nothing. Their shaky alliance had been built only upon opposing Samael, but at the crux of the issues at hand their foundation was weak, neither genuinely supporting the other's cause. Ultimately, Azazel accepted the need for balance superseded other disputes and was unwilling to fight for the overzealous Fire King.

Samael's glee couldn't be contained any longer. He smiled, gracefully interlocking his fingers before resting his chin on top of his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and basked in the victory of his successfully placed wedge. When he opened his eyes again, his smile grew wider and his teeth, sharper than usual, gleamed as his appearance took on more prominently demonic features in a show of aggression toward the lesser king. His elbows slid apart slightly on the table as he leaned forward to Iblis, facing her directly.

"Precisely," he told her, dangerous smile, laced with the smugness of victory, never leaving his face.

A nearby vase burst with flame and popped, shattering loudly when Iblis lost her temper. Samael had bested her, easily shaking apart the flimsy alliance she had formed with Azazel. What was worse than losing to Samael was his infuriating gift for barely veiled mockery in his triumphs. He was as gifted with glib verbal seduction as he was with inconspicuous taunting, and he blatantly delighted in both. 

Furious he would obviously be having his way once again, she leaned in her seat towards Samael, opening her mouth to present a case that wouldn't be heard.

"Iblis, you forget your place." 

Lucifer's firm gaze was upon her as he instructed, "Leave." Iblis receded from Samael immediately and stared back at Lucifer's end of the table blankly for a moment before smoothly rising from her chair. She bowed her head slightly towards her eldest brother, impassive face barely concealing her burning anger.

"I apologize," she said simply to the Light King before crossing the room without looking back. Her wary-looking aides rushed behind her, preparing for the temper they would surely have to endure. The remaining demon kings sat, serious and unmoving in their seats, their eyes fixed on the banquet table before them as they waited. Only Lucifer's eyes followed her. No one spoke again as the lock of the door fell behind her.

Lucifer's eyes remained on the door glazed over in thought. He straightened up after a moment snapping his attention to the remaining attendants standing in wait along the wall of the room. 

Azazel had brought a servant and a member of his own bloodline to observe the meeting. The small army of servants holding aloe, mandragora pouches and clean rags were Lucifer's nurses and care team. Both Amaimon and Samael had neglected to bring help with them this year. This was common for Amaimon, who seemed incapable of remaining in consistent contact with any creature less powerful than himself and allowing them to live for a significant period of time. Behemoth, his spirited, green Familiar sitting at his feet being the obvious exception. 

For Samael, the lack of servants was odd, but not unprecedented. He traveled to the meetings by Time Key, and often stepped in for the meeting and stepped out a door home as soon as it was over unless he needed to stick around for additional political maneuvers after the main event. 

The attendants along the wall looked uncomfortable, a couple shuffling their stances nervously as Lucifer stared.

"The rest of you. Out." He barked suddenly. They mobilized instantly, shuffling out of room obediently. Amaimon nudged Behemoth with his foot, silently ordering the hobgoblin to follow suit. The door opened, shut and locked with a click once again. Azazel broke the silence this time.

"Even if we follow this through, is it not only a temporary measure? He will struggle, but Astaroth will certainly find another vessel in due time."

Lucifer's complete attention shifted to Azazel immediately. Though Azazel did not wilt beneath his glowing eyes, the Light King's barely-checked ire filled the space between them. He was at his patience's end with this meeting and was ready to end it. By any means.

Sensing the impending escalation, Samael expertly cut in on Lucifer's behalf, "Regardless, he will recognize this measure as a punishment for his disobedience and warning of excruciating consequences should his behavior continue." He glanced to his older brother, verifying his approval before continuing with a light and lazy drawl, "I believe it will be supremely effective."

Azazel's expression was one of disapproval, but still he gave a curt nod in response. Lucifer seemed placated.

"Then it is settled. Samael, I will offer my kin to the temple's priest. You will be responsible for giving them the knowledge required to forge a demon-slaying sword fit to subdue the Impure King. And you will handle Astaroth yourself."

The Time King bowed his head in agreement no longer able to contain the self-satisfied smile crookedly playing on his lips. "Excellent."

"And what of Amaimon?" Lucifer remembered that the meeting could not yet end with a sigh of irritation that escaped his lips as more of a painful wheeze. 

The King of Earth had been sitting quietly since Lucifer first spoke to end the bickering about the table, his posture slightly slumped and eyes down in submission. He raised his head slightly in acknowledgement of his eldest brother's attention. 

"He has brought a level of disorder and chaos to Egypt in this past decade that is irresponsible and unsustainable. The entire region is no longer able to provide services fit for any of us, let alone luxury goods," Lucifer continued with a frown, not even acknowledging the low-ranking king's presence in the room.

"And his stolen body! You did not follow proper procedure, Amaimon!" Azazel slammed his hand on the table, forgetting Lucifer's frayed temper. "My bloodline is not meant to serve as a bouquet of vessels for you to rifle through, Dirt King!"

Amaimon's eyes flashed at the insult. "The body was suitable and I—"

"A King as weak as yourself can certainly find another suitable host."

"I will take him," Samael offered, cutting in expertly. Amaimon's body visibly unwound but he remained stone-faced. "Though the damage has been severe, the wounds of his recklessness will fade naturally with time. Not to mention, he may be of some use to me in my efforts to stabilize the East, if necessary. A beast on a leash for a shock and awe campaign if all else fails."

The Earth King raised his head to regard Samael. He kept his back slouched in his chair as his attention flicked to his savior brother. His face remained unchanged except for the slightest crinkle of his brow, barely creasing his placid skin. 

This had undoubtedly been one of his more disastrous meetings, and Amaimon fully expected consequences for his actions over the last decade. Samael's interference on his behalf, while likely preferable to punishment at Lucifer's hands, was peculiar.

"If he disobeys or causes further trouble," Samael continued to Lucifer without so much as a glance to his young brother, "I will kill him, too."

Amaimon was suspended between the wills of his two eldest brothers for a moment. If Samael had his way, he was not sure what the future would hold. If Lucifer were to snap instead, Amaimon would likely find himself back in the hellish nothingness of Gehenna at any moment, stripped from his, admittedly, illicitly obtained body.

Lucifer nodded and Amaimon was spared.

"In the future, Azazel, your bloodline will be considered protected and not appropriate for use as vessels. Amaimon's imprisonment for the time and terms of Samael's discretion ought to serve as penance enough for his recent crimes." 

After a brief coughing fit Lucifer continued, "I have no other business at this time," he told Samael, "and no interest in any more of your lesser squabbles," he spat towards Azazel and Amaimon.

"Of course," Samael said with a growing smile. It had been quite a productive meeting for him after all. "Please, take care, my brother."

"And you," the Light King responded as he stiffly rose to his feet. His posture remained regal as he painfully strode across the hall and out the door towards his chambers, almost but not quite able to hide the limp in his gait through force of will and pride. His attendants rushed him at the door to immediately begin the long aftercare ritual he required following such an eventful day. 

Azazel's servant and kin remained respectfully outside of the hall, but Behemoth sloppily half-ran, half-rolled back to his spot near Amaimon's feet.

Azazel eyed the green, drooling blob with disdain before turning to Samael indignantly, "And just why are you involving yourself in this?" he hissed, gesturing towards Amaimon in his stolen fair-haired, blue-eyed vessel.

"Proper execution of justice requires a fair and unbiased third-party to administer punishment."

Azazel huffed and stood to leave.

"Not that it's any of my business, Samael, but if you're going to play favorites among the Kings," Samael snorted at that and Azazel paused for a moment to look at him sternly. "You could certainly choose more powerful and reliable allies than Amaimon."

"I am still here, you know." Amaimon bleated, digging his claws in to pick at an intricately designed savory game pie a full arm's reach away from his seat. Azazel gaped at his table manner.

Samael took the opening for a quick jab at the Spirit King.

"Hmm, a more powerful ally...like you? Was there something you had in mind?" He cocked his head slightly at Azazel, regarding his brother from his head of the table. Amaimon chewed loudly and looked back and forth between the two before scanning the table for dishes he may have overlooked, finally free after the excruciating meeting to dig in.

Samael raised an eyebrow Azazel's way before fiddling with a hookah on the floor to his right, poking at a softly glowing coal with the tip of his claw. 

"Astaroth's behavior isn't the only unsustainable nuisance in this world now, is it?" he said in an absentminded tone that was markedly inconsistent with his alert body language and very interested eyes.

Azazel narrowed his eyes at Samael, recognizing his attempt at a probe. 

"Just what are you playing at this time?"

Samael smiled to himself and twirled the hose of his hookah about in his hand. The base bubbled as he took several long drags, letting the thick, sweet smoke fall out of his mouth and nose before Azazel finally gave up with a sigh.

"I see. I am growing much too tired and slow for these little chess games, you know. I believe our ultimate goals to be in alignment. For the sake of that only," he emphasized with a glare towards Amaimon who was pointedly looking away and now kneeling on his chair, doubling his range to pick with interest at sweet breads scattered on the otherwise ignored table, "I will not question your judgment. For now."

"I appreciate that, brother." Samael said softly as the Spirit King turned, leaving to gather his company and prepare for the journey home.

Standing himself, Samael turned to his attention to his foul-mannered younger brother.

"Come, Amaimon. There's no time to waste."

"Mmph?" Amaimon struggled to swallow a large chunk of a chewy raisin bread. "We aren't staying for dinner?"

Samael tutted softly at his brother, "Don't be rude. I, for one, have been here for a day and a half already! We've quite overstayed our welcome, I believe." 

Lucifer may stack the place with treats, but the gathering of so many supremely powerful entities for any extended time was always stifling.

"Don't worry," Samael shook his ring of magic keys with a wink, "it will be a short trip."

They stepped before the heavy wooden doors together. Samael turned the appropriate key in the lock, and with a dramatic flair, he flung the door open and gestured with both arms for Amaimon to continue ahead.

"After you, dear brother!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone and thank you for reading! I just discovered Ao No Exorcist, and the monthly wait for every chapter has been killing me. I finally have the time (and confidence) to put out some fanwork of my own, so I hope you all enjoy my contribution. 
> 
> This will be a multichapter story that I plan to update biweekly/monthly, life permitting. 
> 
> A warning to all: I am both lazy and busy, so I won't be doing a ton of research to make this work very historically accurate. I'm going to do my best that it's not jarring enough to ruin the story, but there will be anachronistic phrases/objects/etc here and there because I'm more focused on what's happening than those sorts of details, so I apologize for that!
> 
> As of now, I plan for this story to focus primarily on Amaimon, Mephisto and some OCs in the past ~1000-800 years ago, but there will be some time skips (flashforwards?) to the "present day" universe, and we will see some other characters later on.


	2. The Curious Nature of Things

Amaimon obeyed and stepped forward as Behemoth leapt off his shoulder to the ground below, choosing now to weave between his master’s strides excitedly as they crossed the threshold together.

When they emerged, Amaimon briefly wondered if the morning meeting of Kings had been longer than it had felt, or if they were somewhere quite far away. He considered the possibility that Samael’s door may have taken them to a new time as well as place, but his mind did not linger for long.

Amaimon’s attention was taken quickly to the delightful sensations around him. He felt his body pleasantly consumed with the sweetness of his surroundings. Shimmering on his skin was the warmth of the sun on an open field, saturated with the rich colors and the thick scent of a late summer afternoon. The doorway behind him was the opening of a crooked shack near orderly, well cared for patches of growth too small, really, to be called a farm, but perhaps a bit too large to be considered a garden. Just behind him, Samael stepped through the portal with his key in hand, closing the door firmly to sever their tie to Lucifer's palace.

As the Earth King warily scanned the small paradise before him, his brow creased slightly, disturbing his usually impassive face.

Beyond the nearby garden, a field continued on, dotted with trees swaying in the breeze. A gull flying overhead and the faintest touch of salt in the air hinted at a hidden beach beyond some horizon. In the distance, tiny wildflowers were scattered about, crookedly growing on the gentle stretch of lazy, sloping hills ahead.

The Earth King felt somewhat impaired here. Despite the beauty of his surroundings, Amaimon recognized some peculiar dullness to this place that tainted it with a sleepy haze. 

Cautiously and with no obvious path to be found before him, Amaimon turned his body completely around only to find that behind the supply shack from which he had emerged stood the tree line of a wild-looking wood only a quarter mile back. There was nothing in this draining place, save the garden and shed, that suggested anyone called it home.

Now he found himself really wondering where exactly Samael had taken him…

In general, Amaimon was, like all demons, rather hedonistic. Among the Baal, however, he was quite dissimilar to some of his senior siblings who relished in more materialistic pleasures—the products of humans. Samael, Lucifer and Iblis in particular adored the human pleasures of alcohol, sex, and acquiring wealth and power. Amaimon, of course, enjoyed power by default simply because he had it, and there was an intoxicating pleasure in watching weaker creatures answer his orders and scatter stupidly to fulfil his whims. He did not, however, enjoy the levels of sensory stimulation his siblings seemed to. For him, the greatest pleasures were much simpler. Being present. Smelling earth and food. The thrill of a fight. Tasting things. Listening to the singing Earth. He didn’t enjoy scheming or trickery as Samael did, or strategizing and lying in wait like a predator as Lucifer did. He just wasn’t particularly interested in accumulating more power than he already possessed, so the Earth King just hadn’t developed the finesse of some of his more politically savvy kin.

On top of their different preferences there, Amaimon quite plainly did not enjoy human culture, nor how his eldest siblings seemed to have latched on to their strange rituals—harassing him endlessly about procedures, policies and formalities. He had a general distaste for humans as it were. They had the audacity to carelessly take from the Earth, and so, occasionally, Amaimon felt the need to take back. He enjoyed exerting the power that he had in those instances, unleashing chaos, destroying towns and seeing how they crumbled…The simple things.

This was the well-known nature of the Earth King, and he could not be reasonably faulted for it. Though, he admitted to himself, that his very nature had led to his current confinement under his brother’s will.

Keeping his thoughts from Samael for now, Amaimon could not hide the bewilderment in his eyes after he surveyed the land. This place appeared to be a paradise, but not for Samael. This was a home Amaimon might have chosen for himself, an overgrown space teeming with nature far from the disturbance of a human city. But it didn’t suit Samael one bit. This was not _his_ nature at all.

And a demon never betrays his nature.

Samael, amused at his brother's confusion, let out a soft chuckle and gave a cat-like smile. "Forgive me, but there will be a bit of a walk before we arrive. Surely you understand, brother!" Samael chirped, knowing that Amaimon assuredly did not. "Besides, this will give us time to chat, yes~?" he added with a tone too playful for the younger brother’s taste.

Samael took up a meandering pace, walking right into the long, pliable grass around the gardens as Amaimon followed half a step behind. Oddly enough, as he pressed his feet to the ground through the greenery, Amaimon found himself feeling disoriented and alone. This place carried its unusual dullness from his feet to his skin, lacking a robustness of energy he anticipated from such a bountiful garden. Even the flowers, beautiful and healthy, were bereft of the dripping, sweet scent he expected in the heavy heat of a summer breeze.

Finally in his foggy state, Amaimon noticed that this place was devoid of any of his kin. Immediately he understood the dryness of his senses, unable to feel the energy of his underlings or use their perceptions to sharpen his own. This was a land with no spirit at all, teeming with life but somehow half dead. How bizarre that the demons of the Earth might overlook such a prime location.

The Earth King straightened himself out, adjusting to his complete dependence on his own senses without amplification. He coolly observed his Familiar playing in the dirt and enjoying the grass and found himself suddenly irritated with the hobgoblin’s lightheartedness in their situation.

Behemoth either did not notice or did not care about their lack of brethren. He bounded alongside the brothers, throwing himself into the grass, slipping out of sight as he rustled and rolled in tall weed patches only to pop out with his panting, open smile. Amaimon trudged alongside his Familiar, giving him a sour look that went ignored.

After a few minutes at their leisurely pace, the grass split open. A winding narrow dirt path had finally appeared. As he fell into step behind his brother, who was humming to himself clearly pleased with some success Amaimon did not understand, and his infuriatingly carefree Familiar, Amaimon thought to voice a question. 

"Why did you intervene on my behalf, Elder Brother?"

"Why don't you know?" Samael shot back with a simpering smile.

Amaimon blinked at him in response and Samael’s expression erupted, unable to contain his mirth as he facetiously recalled Azazel’s words.

"Because you're my favorite, of course!"

Amaimon narrowed his eyes at his devious brother but said nothing. Realizing he would not be getting the answer from Samael’s mouth, the Earth King jammed his hands into his pockets and resigned himself to wait for whatever events his brother had planned to unfold. Even then he may never know the truth, but he knew that asking questions was a waste of time whenever Samael decided to play his little games.

The two brothers journeyed onward. Samael prattled on about his business dealings with men in the nearest towns, throwing in the latest gossip associated with them whenever a new character came up. Amaimon wasn’t listening.

“…having an affair with his brother, of course! The consequences were a delightful saga to watch unfold, as I’m sure you can imagine.” Samael laughed to himself and turned to look to his brother. He was jolted a bit, finding, somewhat awkwardly, he needn’t look downward to face Amaimon in his new body.

Samael was quite picky about his vessels himself. Currently in possession of the body of a stupid and greedy man who had lost a wager, the Time King looked to all the world as a tall and handsome charismatic man, albeit with an uninterested and steely gaze. With pale skin and dramatically contrasting dark features, he found his looks accented his silver tongue and only served to make humans in particular even easier to swindle. Samael was always careful to choose aesthetically pleasing bodies for this very reason. His brothers were often not so careful with such things, so he figured Amaimon must have simply been lucky this time in more ways than one. For the first time in their long existence, the two kings looked like they could actually be related.

Amaimon was not at all discerning in his choice of vessels and never had been. He had possessed several humans at this point since his incarnation. He despised the loss of self in Gehenna so vehemently that he would just reside in any body that could contain him. If the vessel were suitable, he would run it into the ground, staying until he could no longer tolerate the pain of deterioration. His original body, the one he was incarnated with, had been a somewhat short but burly man. Since then he had possessed several men of different ages and body types but, as Samael noticed for the first time as they strolled towards his home, all short.  

Samael snorted to himself at the thought. Amaimon didn’t indulge his brother in asking why.

The body Amaimon had stolen from Azazel’s bloodline had belonged to a sweet and fair young man with deep set blue eyes. Containing the power of the Earth King’s heart had tinged the man’s fair hair a delicate, pastel green and given a demonic glow beneath the irises of once clear, kindly eyes, but the body was otherwise unchanged in appearance. Slimmer than he was used to and much, much taller with a body type not unlike Samael’s.

The Earth King was fortunate that his trouble in acquiring this particular body was not wasted. Either his lesser power or his very spirit made him more compatible with physical manifestation in Assiah than some of the other Baal. He could reside in a single vessel comfortably for almost 100 years, and uncomfortably almost 100 years beyond that if he chose, but even for him an incompatible vessel would deteriorate almost instantly. Azazel’s nephilim supporting his power rather than fizzling away under the strength of a demon king’s heart had been a stroke of luck. Amaimon would reap the benefits of his misconduct for a century at least. Stolen or not, he had chosen well this time in many ways. Even with his slouchy walk and chronically miserable face, he was still good-looking in this body.

Samael found himself quite amused now, giggling to himself and not bothering to stifle his laughs at his brother’s expense.

He stopped walking. Amaimon paused beside him and looked slowly to his brother, caving in.

“What is it, brother?” he asked plainly.

“I’m making sure I have your attention,” Samael waved a finger and stifling his chortles. “There will be rules. Do you accept?”

Amaimon frowned but knew he had no choice. “Okay,” he said.

“Wonderful!” Samael smiled brightly at the predictable response. “The first rule of your confinement: you are not to leave my estate for any reason. A single toe out of line and I will kill you,” he told the Earth King, still beaming amicably.

“Alright.” An expected consequence, all things considered.

“The shed we arrived in. That was the southernmost edge of my property, on the east side. This point here, where we are now, take note of it. This is the northernmost edge on the east side.” Samael was serious now and very direct. Amaimon took a critical look at the immediate surroundings. The only notable landmark was a bent willow tree with branches so long a few tickled the ground below. Just outside the shadow of the tree, a carved stone dragon head with moss growing up the sides along its open mouth. After finishing his examination, Amaimon nodded.

“Second rule: other than Behemoth,” Samael looked down at the creature with faint distain, “you are not to have contact with any other demons from outside these boundaries. Nor are you to summon them here for any reason. This includes your own kin.”

“Fine,” Amaimon frowned more deeply. His eyebrows knit together as he grew frustrated holding back his protest. Samael was his superior and his temporary warden, but he should not be interfering with a King’s relations to his kin!

“Come on.”

They walked again quite far, this portion of the journey slightly uphill, but still not taxing. When they reached a set of giant polished river stones that made a dotted path up a larger, steeper hill to the north. Near the top of the hill, Amaimon could see that they lead to a small, brightly painted red and black shrine.

Gesturing toward the building, Samael told him in a low, serious voice, “That is also mine, but you are not permitted there without an explicit invitation.”

“Understood,” Amaimon agreed, chewing his nail as he studied the shrine curiously.

Samael took a long look at the building himself, straining from the bottom of the hill a bit and seeming to search for something for a moment. He gave it one last squint before marching on along the trail.

The brothers continued until they finally reached a place where the grass got coarse and long, more and more sparse on the ground, which was quickly becoming sandy and much softer and giving beneath their feet. Ahead of them, the soft, sandy land gave way and slipped beneath the ocean’s gently lapping waves.

“This is the Western boundary. From here until the wooden storehouse a mile south is within bounds, but you may not go farther than you can stand in the water. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Now Amaimon was burning with a million unspoken questions behind his expressionless face.

Some years ago, Samael had up and left Europe hastily without so much as a word to the other Baal. After centuries sharing the region, he had claimed that living so near the kings was simply too confining and he was leaving to just stretch out and relax. In the East, he told them, the atmosphere and culture around demons was much more favorable and accepting, not so aggressively poisoned against them by the teachings of Christ. While Lucifer was wholly uninterested with leaving the West as his center of operations, as were the other kings, Samael took off and had not returned since until Lucifer’s recent summons.

What was Samael really doing in this countryside now? The question lingered between the two demons. Behind his excuses and outright lies, the loveliness of the land was apparent, but so far there had still not been even a glimpse of his home on their journey. Gardens, the ocean front, shrines—it was decidedly not Samael’s typical environment. Not even close. He thrived in bustling cities, lounging in mansions and palaces packed with pomp and glamor. This secluded nature preserve was a change as inexplicable as his sudden move.

“Wonderful!” Samael’s cheerful countenance was on again as his voice cut easily through Amaimon’s ponderings, showing no indication he planned on releasing any information any time soon. “Let’s go in then, shall we?” he threw casually over his shoulder as he walked inland. Amaimon followed.

It was a short walk from the beach. After only a few minutes the house came into view. It was quite large with a square foundation, elevated a few feet above the ground. The corners of the tidy, gold trimmed roof turned up at the ends with a shimmer in the setting sunlight. A gravelly walkway wound toward the entrance and splintered in two. One path lead to the entrance door, and the other, narrower path lead just to the side of the home where there was an open, thatched roof-covered space the size of a large room. There on the flat ground was a low table sat upon an old rug with some half-finished board game scattered on top. Beside this sitting area, a pond full of fish, some decorative some delicious.

An estate and home fit for a wealthy family or lord. Again, another beautiful, baffling sight. Other than the immaculate construction, it was still not Samael’s style.

“What’s with the lifestyle downgrade, Brother?” Amaimon finally asked as they approached the home.

Samael gasped, “How very rude!” Scowling at that and turning up his nose he added, “Hmm, now that we’ve reached the house, I’ve just remembered! Just to be _painstakingly_ clear,” he exaggerated the word for Amaimon’s benefit, “A third rule: do not kill or harm any creature, human or demon here.”

“What demons? There are no others here…” Amaimon grumbled his complaint.

Samael did not move, staring at his brother from the corner of his eye and silently demanding submission.

“How boring,” Amaimon moaned, tapping at Behemoth with his feet absentmindedly. “I accept,” he mumbled before asking, “Where do the servants stay here, brother? I want to eat.”

In a show of utter sadistic pleasure, Samael faced his brother fully and gave a full, sharp-toothed grin.

“There are none!” he exclaimed, turning on his heel and half skipping ahead of his open-mouthed brother who stood frozen in place, aghast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! An update! I actually impressed with myself for getting this chapter out. We’re at peak midterm time, so the next chapter may be delayed a bit by that. 
> 
> This story is cross posted on ffnet, and there was some delay in getting this account going so I think it's only been about a week since I posted the first chapter here, but it's actually been several weeks since I finished the first chapter.
> 
> Expect next update in ~3-5 weeks! 
> 
> A few of my little headcanons came out in this chapter, if anyone is interested in those. 
> 
> The first, and least consequential, was the hair color stuff. Since we found out that Amaimon’s present day body is a clone of Samael, but they have pretty distinctly different features (eyebrow shape, eye color, hair color, etc) one thing I’ve been thinking is that when a demon takes a body, it may stain some elements of appearance (like eyes/hair color) with their energy. So maybe the Sam clones we saw were all brunettes, but when Samael possesses them, the hair takes a purple hue and when Amaimon possesses them, green hue and so on for the other kings. 
> 
> The second one is a lot more important for my plans with this story. Since Christianity can be really rigid in organized practice and we see Bible verses used in the AnE universe and a lot of Catholic imagery and structures, I am assuming Christian sects/cults in early years were less accepting and more aggressively resistant to human-demon interactions (likely to label fraternizers as blasphemous/witches/etc) than cultures in the Americas and east Asia in particular that allowed that boundary to be a little more porous. 
> 
> Third, I think one of the key differences between humans and demons is that human’s minds are more easily swayed or just in general more tumultuous. Obviously, demons are very intelligent beings who will make decisions based on the information presented to them, but we might consider human beings to be more “reasonable”—as in more flexible and willing to make exceptions or do things they otherwise would not due to emotional empathy or social cues. When there is conflict between a person’s self, emotion and/or external pressures, we see this leads to behavior that seems bizarre or irrational to observers whereas a demon defaults to his/her nature and that is what dominates his behavior almost exclusively—rarely will a situation be so extreme that it would lead a demon to consider behavior in conflict with his nature. The ultimate observable result being that humans are “continuous” in behavior with yes, no and a million shades of maybe and demons are “binary” I-will/I-won’t-and-that’s-that creatures. That’s the basic idea anyway. 
> 
> I won’t say too much more about those last two—I want those ideas to really drive the plot and I’m hoping I can write the story well enough to convey my meaning and build the ideas there.


	3. A Nephilim

The brothers were winding down the beaten down dirt path together, Amaimon carefully staying in line just behind Samael and worrying about his next meal, when he heard something that was not their footsteps nor Behemoth's pattering.

From the side of the house, an older human woman appeared lugging heavy-looking covered baskets in each hand. She was slight and aging well, but her tan, wrinkled face and peppered black and silver hair showed sign of a full life lived. Looking up, she took notice of the two demons approaching the house.

"Welcome home," she greeted Samael with crinkling eyes and a warm smile. Samael hummed a gentle acknowledgement.

"Mmhm. Thank you. This is my younger brother," he shoved Amaimon forward slightly, "currently under my supervision until further notice."

Still pushing his brother by his shoulder a bit, Samael ordered, "Introduce yourself."

"I am Amaimon, the Demon King of the Earth, seventh strongest in all Gehenna," he told her with a bored, even tone as Samael's face dropped, eyes going sharp. He immediately started scanning the area around them, paranoid.

"Oh? Another King?" the woman raised her eyebrows jokingly, responding with a laugh and looking between the brothers. She bowed her head slightly, her smile never faltering. "Pleased to meet you. You can call me Baasan or Baba if you'd like, Amaimon."

Amaimon narrowed his eyes, immediately peeved with her overly familiar way of speaking to him and apparent lack of respect. While not otherwise skilled in the art of facial communication, scorn was an expression the King of Earth had mastered.

"Mind yourself," Samael turned his attention back and nudged, adding with a slithering whisper, "Little Brother." He had stopped scanning the surrounding area but remained uncharacteristically vigilant.

Amaimon softened both his stance and face slightly, but huffed, ostensibly still cross with the woman.

Unaware of or indifferent to his threatening gaze, she kept on toward the entrance, falling into step with Samael and leaving the sullen King of Earth to scowl a pace behind them.

"Relax," Baba told him with twinkling eyes and a playful elbow to his side. Samael realized his shoulders were tense and dropped them, sighing at her prodding and reaching for the baskets in her hands.

"Baasan," he said, clicking his tongue at her, "you should not be doing this alone. Let's get inside. We probably don't have much time left."

"Probably?" she teased, laughing at him.

Samael pouted a bit. "She's…hard to track, but we should have some time. She's always late," he griped.

Without missing a beat, she chided him, "Oh, come now! You're only young once, after all, and she's not even late yet!" she exclaimed, pulling the baskets away from his outstretched hands and heading for the door stubbornly.

"I can handle these afternoon tasks by myself," she told him. Samael frowned and pushed forward a little, firmly grabbing the baskets from her before leading them through the entrance. She exhaled a bit theatrically at him but otherwise accepted her defeat.

"Still…" Samael murmured, turning to do one just one last scan as he ushered the woman and brooding Amaimon into the house ahead of him.

She waved a hand at him from inside, removing her shoes and reclaiming her loaded baskets from the demon's hands the moment he was within reach.

"Still nothing! Be careful. There are only three things that can happen when you wind a life too tightly 'round your fingers, you know. You'll deform it and it will remain forever misshapen; it will slip away and never return; or it will shatter in your very hands."

Samael frowned at the chastisement for a moment. Amaimon watched hopefully. Maybe his brother would ask for her to be killed now. She was clearly annoying the Time King.

"Baba," Samael said with a dangerous smile as he stepped forward to tower over her, "diamonds are made under pressure."

If the woman were displeased, her face didn't show it. She laughed dismissively at Samael and turned her back to him, walking away.

"Control and confinement won't get you your precious gem, Sam."

Sam?! Was this one of Samael's illusions? Blood would be spilled for this insolence, Amaimon was sure of it. The chill of adrenaline spread across his body as he waited (and hoped) for an order.

He was stunned when Samael instead chuckled at the nickname with only the tease of a warning.

"Careful with that," he told her, with a lopsided smirk, "It's time to go back to our usual, I think."

Amaimon tilted his head toward his brother inquisitively. Samael paid him no mind as he sighed with a slump, kicking Behemoth away so he could remove his shoes. This place really would be boring…and this annoying woman servant certainly was straining him on the No Killing Rule.

"I'm starting dinner and tea now if you have any requests!" she called, slipping away in to the kitchen.

She was alright. Amaimon decided he had misjudged her. He started to float slowly and inconspicuously after her, but Samael's arm shot out in front of him to barricade the glutton in the hall.

"Lovely. Hold on the tea. We'll need a moment," Samael called after her before giving Amaimon a pointed look, gesturing for him to follow down the hall and away from the promise of food. Reluctantly, the younger king complied, stepping out of sight of the kitchen doorway.

Without a glace back Samael told him softly, "The people here are largely ignorant of the Baal, but you will be using an alias just in case. I have been using the name Uehara Shun. For the time being, you can be my younger brother, Uehara Emon."

"I don't even get to choose for myself?" Amaimon complained.

Samael continued as though he hadn't heard, though his tone was more authoritative and sharper as he instructed, "Introduce yourself by the family name to others. While at home, we use your familiar name."

Behind him, he could practically feel the Earth King squinting at him, scrutinizing gaze piercing his back. Samael knew his stress was showing now, not even managing to keep his usual mocking, light aura. This game was challenging, even for him.

The Time King paused for a moment, mind whirring as he tried to consider the potential outcomes that lie just ahead. He knew his alone time with his little brother would be coming to its end any moment, and he was anxious about his mixture of reagents, poised to interact in ways beyond the control of his guiding hand. He could repeat this moment, if he must, but playing it just right from the start would be less draining. Even with the insurance of repetition, there was no guarantee he could get it just right in the end. It really was impossible to tell with humans and demons intermingling so intimately; even the gods could not predetermine every chance outcome in Assiah. Under exactly the same initial conditions and constraints, there might be hundreds of vastly different outcomes. The entropic nature of the world of action demanded this inherent chaos over which even a master of time and space had no control.

The future might be too muddled to foretell, but at least independently, Samael took some comfort in his careful assessment of the parts of the whole. Baba was already aware of the situation and probably his most valuable pawn, at least the most pliable and intelligently accepting of instruction. She had the information and the gall to use judgement and act. Amaimon held the benefit of being the most predictable. So long as the rules were stated explicitly and rigidly, he would ping along the walls of confinement, bouncing off in perfectly straight, calculable lines. Separately, Samael could handle them easily, but the parts themselves accounted for was not the same as knowing the whole.

Chaos and rogue actions aside, he was fairly confident he could shepherd his little pawns and correct minor issues with innocuous tugs here and there at the timeline. The stage was well set, and even with doubt, Samael was willing to bet on odds meticulously stacked in his own favor.

"This will be the fourth rule: Do not speak of the Baal or Gehenna to anyone while you are here. Nothing of its origin or power structure, especially. Your title and mine included."

Amaimon blinked at Samael's back.

"I understand."

His brother slid open a door near the end of the hall and gestured for Amaimon to step into the room. It was a simple space with a foldable partition between a mat on the floor and a desk by the window. A shelf with neatly folded robes stacked along the boards held a delicate vase on its top, the room's only decoration.

Behemoth rolled right in and skittered about, jumping on the mat and delighting in rustling the linens.

"This will be your room. The door at this other hall's end is the side entrance," Samael gestured around the next corner. "My room is the next over, so do mind yourself at night and don't be getting up to anything," he warned.

"Basaan and…" Samael hesitated, smiling teasingly enjoying the last drop of suspense, "Baasan stays on the other side of the house."

Amaimon refused to react to the taunting. He could bare his curiousness for the sake of his pride.

"Well, I'm off to rest in my chambers~. Settle in and change into something," Samael looked his brother's ugly, worn clothes up and down with a crinkled, uppity nose, "…suitable for the evening. When you're ready we'll have tea and the tour!" he instructed, flouncing away and sliding the door shut behind him with a snap.

Amaimon stared blankly at the door shut in his face. How could there possibly be more to the tour?

Scanning his room again, the confined king took a special moment to glare at his new wardrobe, carefully folded on the shelf by his bed.

"Of course. That conniving bastard had the foresight to prepare for this moment to the very last detail," Amaimon grumbled to his hobgoblin.

"Don't be rude~!" Samael called through the thin wall.

The Earth King closed his eyes in frustration. His punishment was already well underway.

With nothing to unpack, Amaimon flopped kingly on his soft mat on the floor, lording over his brand-new prison from his brand-new bed. Behemoth rolled over and around him as he sprawled out across the bed.

Settling complete.

Resting for a moment, the demon soaked in the still seclusion of his room. The Earth King found he was not yet ready to join his brother as he sunk into the warmth and peace of his bed, smothering his face in the softness of his bedding for a moment before laying still on his tummy and resting his head on one cheek. The wafting of light, woody tones in the air and the salt-tinged breeze idly swirling through his window reminded him bitterly of freedom. Behemoth's tumbling formed a cacophonous melody with the distant clanking of glass and pots in the kitchen just around the hall. Straining his nose, Amaimon could pick up an herby smell in the house, and he was pleased he would soon have the comfort of a meal.

The room was uninteresting, but at least it was a pleasant respite from his powerful older brother.

Samael was behaving so very strangely, more overtly evasive than usual and deliberately more irritating as well.

Amaimon frowned at the thought, rolling to lay on his back and leisurely crossing his legs.

Behemoth charged his master from across the room, still full of energy. When he got a breath's distance away from the king, Amaimon reached his hand out, covering Behemoth's face with his palm and fingers and shoving him across the room with a bounce. The hobgoblin delighted in the game and charged back, wheeling toward his friend to play again, the skittering, noisy slide of his movements on the smooth wood swallowed by the silence of the empty room.

Amaimon's face was emotionless as he played mindlessly with his Familiar, struggling to evaluate the events of his day. Though he hated to admit it, Azazel was right. Samael was capable of garnering support from more powerful forces in his endeavors, and it was peculiar that Samael had taken up for the low-ranking king to begin with. Amaimon could only be certain he would be getting his strings pulled for some time, perhaps even time beyond his physical imprisonment here. Some conspiracy was in the works. Not that he cared much to subvert Samael's will, but the Earth King knew he would be playing some role and wondered what it might be.

He hated being involved in schemes, especially in the careful way Samael did it, arranging everyone around just so like little dolls. No, Amaimon favored the semblance of self-determination and would prefer direct requests or orders to complete some task, making his appearance to contribute whatever was desired to the plot then freely exiting whatever drawn-out campaign was in progress to return to his leisurely life of mayhem and whimsy.

If he  _must_  be involved, Amaimon supposed being under Samael's thumb was most desirable. He did like to win, and Samael was very often successful in his efforts. More importantly, there was nothing in all of existence that Samael cared for more than his own pleasures, and, though their tastes differed greatly, Amaimon's prerogative depended in no small part on his brother's careful orchestration of the realm. Other than the occasional command framed as a request, he was left for long periods mostly to his own devices by the time king, at least, which was really all he was concerned with during his corporeal time.

* * *

 

The sun set properly, and the room grew dark. Rather than light one of the candles provided on his desk, Amaimon stood and stretched, slipping into one of his new robes and preparing to meet his brother for tea as requested. Unsure what to do with his travelling clothes, he bundled them and threw them beneath the window.

Behemoth took this for a new game, rushing over to take the dirty shirt in his mouth and shake it violently like a hunting dog with a captured rabbit.

Ignoring the destruction of the only material souvenir left from his brief freedom in this body, Amaimon moved to leave his room and rouse his brother.

Just before he reached his door, he heard a bang at the end of the hall near the side entrance. Curious, he stepped weightlessly forward, silently pressing his ear to the thin partition to listen.

There was shuffling near the door that had just been thrown open followed by the thud of shoes carelessly shoved off of feet, falling slightly to the floor. There was the tickling sound of claws on wood taking off down the hall, slipping occasionally on the floor, immediately followed by what could only be described as scampering. The commotion grew and faded away from his hall and to the main room.

He knew the Scratcher and Scamperer must have made it near the kitchen when he heard the muffled voice of the old woman sing hellos at them through the walls. Samael's door slid open and shut, much more softly than the entrance door had been thrown, and he headed towards the invaders. Amaimon's interest was piqued as he quietly exited his room to follow just a pace behind.

They made their way toward the ruckus, strange voices growing and becoming sharper as they approached the sitting room.

The scampering was gone, replaced now by the constant babbling stream of a chattering voice accompanied by the growing smell of fish.

Samael stopped suddenly in the dark hall and spun around to face his brother ominously. His expression was menacing, and he bared his fangs slightly when he spoke.

"This is the fifth rule of our arrangement and the most important," he spoke ominously, eyes glowing with a brutal power through his darkened silhouette, "do not ever speak of what you are about to see to anyone outside of this place. If you do, not only will I destroy your current vessel, I will kill you over and over."

Samael didn't need a height difference between their bodies to tower over his brother, sucking away the space between them in a fluid, hostile step. With his ears stretched long and his teeth pointed, he practically touched his nose to Amaimon's, whispering murderously, "I will see to it you never again enjoy the pleasures of Assiah. Is that clear? "

Amaimon stared with wide, blank eyes, appreciating the imposing show of force behind Samael's threat for a moment before taking a shuffling step back and bowing his head.

"Yes."

Samael grinned at the complete submission, and his demeanor lightened instantly as his snapped back into his playful persona. He shrugged, adding, "This isn't exactly a rule, per say, but do try be nice. This is the only reason I saved you, after all."

With that and a wink, he made a flourishing turn, his back to Amaimon once more.

* * *

 

"You're late. Again." He declared stepping through the entry and just beyond sight.

The jabbering voice stopped, there was a brief squeal and the scampering returned.

"Father!"

Amaimon paused a moment before entering the room to see it for himself.

A little human girl no older than seven, absolutely filthy with grass-stained knees. Her tangled hair, twisted into the suggestion of a once neat plait, pulled out of place uneven and crooked with leaves trapped in some of the ruined strands. Her face was dirty and covered in a thin film of sweaty grime. Mucky little hands clutched a line of freshly caught fish that swayed carelessly alongside her.

Though she was still young and her face still childish, the features she shared with Samael's vessel were remarkable, striking even. The muscles in her face pulled and eyes crinkled the same as Samael's when he smirked, missing only the touch of malice his so often held. Her eyes had the same large, wide shape with the same deep topaz color, but they were clear and honest and burning with intent while Samael's remained heavy-lidded and cold, even in her bubbly, innocent grasp. A mirror image of one another in different lifetimes, if such a thing were possible. She was disgusting, boyish and savage-looking where Samael was sparkling clean, honestly, somewhat feminine, and a perfectly debonair gentleman.

Despite their differences, this girl smiled brightly when Samael leaned down carefully and touched her nose with his gently. Her shining eyes stayed fixed upon him, seeing nothing else. The gesture, so threatening when it had been Amaimon's face only seconds ago, was disgustingly warm.

She had jumped up and climbed Samael's arm, which he had lazily bent at the elbow to help keep her from falling after the leap of faith. She now half-lay, half-sat straddling his forearm, hugging his bicep with her right arm hooked through his as she smiled and stared at her so-called father like he carried the sun across the sky.

Perhaps he told her he had, and she dumbly believed him. Sharper, wiser humans than her had been effortlessly deceived by him before.

Resemblances aside, the girl was clearly painfully human. Her ears and pupils perfectly round, no fangs in her laughing smile, and no tail to be seen. The only thing demonic about her wasn't about her at all. At Samael's feet a long, shimmering white-bellied dragon about the size of a large dog coiled on the floor, watching carefully as this child accosted the King of Time. The girl's Familiar.

This stupid child was the source of the scampering. And squealing. And evidently the fish smell.

This human is what Samael threatened to kill for so seriously!

Amaimon contained his scowl with some effort, observing quietly.

She was strong for a human child, he had to give her that. On her left side, dangling dangerously in front of Samael, she had a white-knuckle grip on her line of fish that dangled and knocked against Samael's fresh shirt as he struggled with her. Despite helping her remain attached to his arm and absolutely having the power to separate her body from his, Samael was seemingly repulsed by this girl yet simultaneously unwilling to let her go.

"Ugh, now, hold on! Just wait. No—! Don't—agh! I just had a lavender soak today!" he whined at her childishly.

"Father, father, father! Look!" She raised the fish and let them swing precariously in Samael's face.

"Yes, yes, darling. I've seen now could you please—!"

Darling? Could you? And Please? His face remained unchanged, but Amaimon was appalled. He had never before witnessed such demure behavior from Samael.

"I caught all of them by myself and—well, this one here," she gestured at one by bobbing her entire face towards the bunch, "I actually didn't catch by myself but that was because—Oh! Yeah! We went so far! Do you know we actually went to this one spot, we thought it was half a day away, but actually it was a whole day away! And we—"

"Baa—could you, just, please?" Samael gestured his head helplessly towards the dangling fish.

The elderly woman gracefully swooped into the room fully from the kitchen doorway where she had been supervising this little reunion and took the line from the girl, cooing, "Oh, what a fine job you've done, haven't you?" and rubbing the child's cheek with her thumb.

The words spared Samael a moment as the girl shifted her attention to the woman, beaming. His tense shoulders fell, and his ears drooped slightly in relief as the fish were removed from his immediate vicinity. His reprieve lasted only a moment before the girl realized her gross, fishy hand was now free, and she quickly found good use for it. Unhooking her right arm from Samael's, she now placed both of her hands on either side of his face as he bent his arm even more, fully supporting her weight on his forearm himself. She stopped wriggling but held his head down and in place while she clumsily pulled on his hair, staring at him smiling.

"I missed you. Where did you go?"

"Yes, yes. I missed you, too. I was home, of course," Samael lied as he lightly pulled one grubby hand off of his face and held it in his own.

"Nooo!" She sang at him. "You left before me, and I know you just got back, too!" She pushed back on his hand, interlocking their fingers as she stretched out their arms together.

"You want to know how I know?" she asked as she pressed her face against Samael's again. "I figured it out all by myself," she loudly whispered in his ear.

"Oh, did you? Later, then. You'll have to tell me all of your little secrets." He took his hand from her and readjusted his grip so that his arm pinned her against his side by her knees and she was eye level with him. "Now, we really are being quite rude, aren't we? We have a guest you know."

"Really? Who?" the little face suddenly tilted and peered around Samael's head. On the other side she found a bored looking, faintly frowning young man with seafoam hair and an odd, pointed cowlick staring back her way.

"Your dear Uncle Emon has come to live with us."

The girl wiggled in his grasp, struggling for release. Samael acquiesced, loosening his hold on her and allowing her to slide down to the ground. Solidly on the floor, she bent her knees in a defensive stance, peering from between her father's legs and half-curling behind one as though it were wide enough to conceal her. Clutching at the fabric of his loose pant leg and pulling it to cover her face a bit, she squinted at Amaimon suspiciously from the safety of her base at her father's feet.

Gently and with a smile Samael pet her head. "Come on, now," he cajoled, "say hello."

She turned her head to face him from below, then turned back to study Amaimon. Suddenly, she weaved herself back through her father's legs, turned and bolted for the kitchen without a word.

"At least wash your hands, Katori!" Samael called after her, exacerbated as she disappeared into the kitchen to join her Baba.

* * *

 

"A nephilim?"

"Oh, you absolute fool!" Samael chided with a snort, "Of course not. What would I care for a nephilim of mine? This, this is something spectacular!" he announced dramatically, "One day very soon, even thick-headed you will be able to appreciate the true genius and beauty of my creation."

The brothers sat on the wooden benches by the table just outside the home, enjoying tea and the stillness of the dark pond. Samael had determined this a safe enough distance from the bustling kitchen to field some of Amaimon's questions.

"She's your child with a human woman," Amaimon said slowly, as clearly Samael did not realize he had not, in fact, invented the wheel, "does that not make her half-blooded and a nephilim?"

"Half-blooded, yes. A nephilim, no." Samael wagged a finger to emphasize his point.

"I'm afraid I don't understand the difference, Brother."

"Not surprising," Samael chirped as he topped off their cups graciously. "But, more importantly, not at all the point. I don't need for you to understand at this time," he claimed haughtily, crossing his legs and watching the reflection of lantern fire flicker on the water's rippling surface.

Amaimon ignored the slight and started globbing honey into his tea before commenting, as innocently as he could, "You do need me for something."

"Yes, unfortunately," Samael frowned, turning away from the fish and back to his brother before continuing much quieter, "My little Princess of Time project would just be absolutely ruined if something were to happen to her before she comes of age, only another decade or so. I've made it this far, but it has been close at times," he recalled, stroking at his chin thoughtfully. "I think the precautions I've taken should suffice until then…

"Well, in the meantime, in case you had not noticed, she is," Samael grimaced before diplomatically continuing, "rambunctious. You've got the energy, the time and a penchant for games and general foolishness. You can wear each other out. Safely."

"Safely?" Amaimon asked, eyes fixed on the container in his hands as he abandoned all pretenses and began scooping honey straight out of the jar, dangling the dripping spoon into his mouth.

"Ah, yes, that. Well, you see, she likes to play games and," he paused briefly, lowering his inflection, "sometimes, kill things."

Samael's attempt to gloss over that information failed miserably. Amaimon's head flicked towards his brother instantly with slightly raised brows and perked ears.

"Kill things? That kid?" As expected, Amaimon latched onto that. Samael suspected that tidbit would intrigue the fellow king.

He dismissed his little brother with a wave of his hand, "Usually just animals—hunting game! But sometimes...Well, anyway, she won't be able to kill you on accident, even if she goes into one of her little," he fluttered his fingers around searching for words, "...states. And you like to play games."

"And kill things," Amaimon added staring deeply into the honey pot and scraping relentlessly into the jar for every last drop.

"No, no. Let us recall the rules of the household, my little brother," Samael reminded him firmly. "The purpose of this joint venture is exactly to oppose that tendency in you, and to learn a little self-control for her. You understand, two birds and all that," he said airily turning his hand for effect. "You  _like_  to kill things and destroy. Too much. She does it on accident...mostly."

"Mofftly..." Amaimon repeated as deviously as was possible with his mouth full, the corners barely turning up around the sticky spoon he was sucking on.

Samael kept a strained smile as his eyebrow twitched slightly, "That part is not particularly important, little brother. I need both of you to learn other problem-solving skills aside from killing things. Besides—"

Katori popped into the doorway of the room with her lizard-like dragon, now the size of a ferret, perched on her shoulder. She jogged to the pond without a word, staring down at the water from above and calculating for a while. She turned and looked to the two now silent demon kings sitting innocently on the bench before returning her gaze back to the pond, watching the fish intently. She crouched down on her toes, bending herself in half so that her left hand braced her at the ground's edge and her right was raised by her head.

Amaimon saw Samael's face flicker with some unidentified expression before he asked, "What are you up to, little one?" an uneasy edge in his voice.

"I didn't bring enough back with me," she mumbled, without so much as glancing back at her father.

"Wait—"

With a loud, messy splash, she darted her hand into the water and struggled for a moment before pulling out a flopping fish.

"No, no! NO! The net! The net! Remember? We use the net for that!" Samael cried getting up to his feet. Katori tightened her grip on the animal and stepped backward from the pond before turning to face Samael again.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, not looking away from the wriggling fish in her grasp as she stepped on to the wooden platform of the porch. She studied it with a serious expression as it suffered in her hand.

"Father," she started seeming thoughtful, finally looking up at him while forcibly hooking two fingers into the struggling fish's mouth, "do you think one pot will be enough or should we make more? Baasan wants to know," she said as she ripped her two fingers down and out of the fish, tearing it open and gutting the twitching animal in a single fluid pull.

"Not on the floor!" Samael moaned. Amaimon licked at his sticky fingers, amused at his brother's distress.

"Oh! Um, sorry," she looked down and shuffled her feet away from the mess on the otherwise pristine wooden panels. "Uh, Iza-chan can get it, right?"

She turned down to her Familiar. The dragon scurried out of her collar and down her leg, licking up the bits of flesh and fish guts that had fallen.

"See?" she smiled at Iza for the job well done. Carefully holding the meaty, gutted fish with three curled fingers. She used her left index finger and thumb to rip the strand of gutted insides she held in her right hand in half. She threw one to her familiar and made an instantaneous ally and life-long friend when she threw the other half to Behemoth, who swallowed the treat whole.

Putting his head down, Samael rubbed his temples with the thumb and index finger of his left hand. Amaimon smirked. Forced accomplice to conspiracy or not, this prison sentence would at least be interesting after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another chapter. I think this is a bit earlier than promised, but procrastinating feels so much better than studying :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone for keeping up so far! I've really appreciated the feedback and I hope everyone reading is excited for the coming chapters! From here on the plot is going to move much faster and chapters are (mostly) longer.
> 
> Coming up: Samael needs to deal with Astaroth and Amaimon needs to learn to make nice with his new playmate.


	4. Amahara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samael goes to town. Amaimon learns he was wrong.

_I._

_i. In the beginning there was the Lord God and God alone. The place that both bore him and which he bore himself was called Atzilut, the World of Emanations. From this realm, all others were born of His will, in each bestowing powers of his to his kins. For once Atzilut was whole, then He formed Beriah, the World of Creation for his progenies, the Gods, to rule._

_ii. As He lorded above them, so he charged them lordship over the World following. At His command, they, too, took their hands and formed with their Father, the Lord, Yetzirah, World of Formation, the realm of immortals made in their own image to serve at the pleasure of these Gods, the Angels. And the Lord himself created those highest among them, the Arch Angels._

_._

_._

_._

_ix. And the Worlds grew small. As the Gods struggled between themselves, the highest of those Gods, Satan, implored his Father to form yet another. And so, at his beloved Satan’s request, the Lord created a final material realm, a World of Action, Assiah, and he commanded that none have dominion over this place._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Emon~!” Samael’s muffled voice sang, “Could we request an audience with you~?”

Amaimon sat up in his bed with a grunt and glared at the shared wall of their rooms before shuffling toward the call. With disheveled hair and a mussed robe, he snapped Samael’s bedroom door open.

“What.”

Samael turned in his seat to face Amaimon fully, surrounded by documents and stationary scattered about his writing desk. Baba stood beside him but stared off beyond the Earth King, petite hand half-covering her mouth and a contemplative furrow in her brow.

Clicking his tongue, Samael chided, “Ugh! Couldn’t make yourself at least decent, could you?”

With a snap, Amaimon’s hair neatly settled in place (save his stubborn point) and fresh, crisp robes replaced his crinkly slept in ones. Amaimon frowned at the invasiveness of being physically groomed by his brother’s magic but knew better than to protest.

“Well, Little Brother, it’s a big day for you! I’ve got a task for you to complete.”

“What.”

Samael pouted, “At least pretend to care!”

Amaimon stared back blankly, waiting for actual instructions.

“Hmph!” Samael relinquished, knowing demanding expression from Amaimon was like asking a rock to sing. “Sweet Oba-chan and I have got important business to attend to today,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her from his seat, “we will be gone for the better part of the day so you’ll have to play nanny for little Katori.”

“I can’t nan—”

“Make sure she eats at least twice, keep her company and,” Samael grinned mischievously, “I had better not find a _single scratch_ on her when we return.”

Baba’s mind seemed to come back into the room at that.

“Oh, that just isn’t fair,” she said with a little smile, “An impossible task.” Her smile went hard and eyes icy when she continued, “But you would be wise to not raise your hand to her.”

“Hmm,” Samael stroked at his chin in thought. “Alright, fine. Baasan is right. _You_ had better not hurt her, and I expect her to tell me she’s had a positively _lovely_ day with her darling uncle when I return.”

“What am I—” Amaimon started, but Samael cut him off again, brusquely now.

“Just eat and play. You’ll be fine.” He insisted sharply, “Go on,” dismissing Amaimon with a wave.

As he left, he could hear Baba murmur through the closed door, “Are you sure about this?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, wait for me!” Katori whined.

Amaimon did not acknowledge her, continuing on to the unguarded dining table. Baba had left them a simple breakfast of eggs and rice. Katori balked when she saw Amaimon pick at his food with his bare hands (“You’re supposed to use chopsticks!”) and cackled when she saw him stab at his eggs with a single stick.

After the two had gobbled up the meal, they spent the better part of the morning gallivanting about the estate, playing hiding games with their familiars in tow.

Amaimon found he quite enjoyed their games, and it got very interesting when he learned that Katori could climb trees quietly and higher than expected, finding her curled up, tiny and hidden, nestled in high, leafy branches on a few occasions. Behemoth and Iza could contort and shrink themselves into the oddest nooks and crevices, but neither played as intelligently as their masters, though they added a delightful spark of their own to the activities. Of course, even Katori had no chance of winning against the demon king herself, and Amaimon always waited until she gave up, calling out that she had quit and he won before revealing himself, too proud to let her win even a single round.

Once Katori grew bored of the game, she took to intently investigating the grounds, searching for interesting rocks and shells and carefully gathering them up, holding up her shirt by its front edge to use as a makeshift bag. Each time she found something, no matter how plain or ordinary, she would hold it up for Amaimon to inspect for himself. Once her treasure became too great for her to carry alone, she started asking him to hold some of the pieces for her. When he immediately refused, she simply started to sneak them straight into his pockets, as if he wouldn’t notice such clumsy hands, and he allowed it for the sake of peace, knowing she would cry about it otherwise.

Finally, when he could tolerate his boredom no longer and decided he had given Katori her way long enough that she could not possibly whine to Samael, Amaimon ordered the group back home, seeking to soothe the tediousness with food.

 

* * *

 

 

Samael and Baasan had travelled by key to a bustling shop in Heian-kyō*, choosing a location busy enough that no one would notice their sudden appearance.

The city they passed through was bleak with smothering rot, tiny coal tars a black snow along the streets. They covered their faces with bamboo hats and sage-stuffed cotton rags across their mouths and noses. The upper class had largely abandoned the city, but the poorer people, with nowhere to go and not enough resources to manage a large-scale migration from the dying town, were still around fighting and scrounging for necessities like food and clean water. In futile attempts to purify the town even a bit, lanterns of lavender, tea tree and orange oils burned all day and night and thick sage smoke wafted from huts into the streets.

Keeping their heads down through the densest parts of the city, together they had traveled beyond the outskirts to the great shrine just beyond one of the outermost satellite villages.

Together they stood before a small team of blacksmiths, all gaping at Samael incredulously.

“Uehara-sama, I simply believe it cannot be done!” one dirty-faced apprentice exclaimed.

“Oh? And why is that?” Samael asked, feigning ignorance and staring at his nails disinterestedly.

“A blade capable of such a task, a demon slaying weapon? It would have to be heaven sent. I don’t believe such a material exists that could—”

“Then make it exist,” Samael snapped, “Summon the gods themselves to forge it for all I care, but get it done.”

The head blacksmith nodded, sweating nervously and placing his comforting hand on the apprentice’s shoulder. “We will make it for you,” he told Samael with more conviction in his voice than his face, “We will make a sword that can vessel the power of an angel. A demon slaying blade.” He gulped and took a shaky breath, “For the sake of our homeland, we will do it.”

“Wonderful!~” Samael winked, “I knew I could expect only the greatest from the fine folks of the Myo Dha!”

Readying himself to leave he turned once more and added, “Oh, I’ll actually be needing two of them, by the way. They don’t need to be identical. Baba-chan will leave you the specifications. I’ll see you in a month to collect them!~”

“A MONTH?” the blacksmith’s apprentice exploded

Samael shrugged at him carelessly, “Unless you’d like to wait longer? I was under the impression that this was a…time sensitive matter.”

The apprentice sighed and bowed his head in apology.

“Actually,” Samael added with a perk, “why don’t you make one a staff? I like a little variety. See ya!” he waved over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re not listening!” Katori stomped behind him, struggling to get in front of him and force his attention to her.

Amaimon held out his unyielding arm and blocked her from the kitchen shelves, steadily pushing her further back behind him without ever turning to face her. He noticed as he pressed some hard, thin piece of jewelry hanging hidden under her shirt. She felt him press it too, and shifted so his hand pressed her shoulder, carefully moving his touch away from the curious metal piece.

He kept one hand on her behind his back while the other reached forward in search of goodies. Katori never stopped squirming, though she was vastly over powered in both raw physical strength and limb length.

“You’ll make father angry!” she shouted at the back of his head.

“So.”

With a grunt and furious jerk away from his firm hand, she threw the fistful of pebbles and shells she had carried back with them into the house at the back of Amaimon’s head. He spun around after the first barely touched his hair, instantly bent at the waist so that his snarling face was just above hers as the raining pieces fell one by one and scattered across the floor.

It happened so quickly and his searing eyes were so startling and close, Katori took a stumbling step backwards and fell on her bottom, hands holding her up in a tilted sitting position as her legs fell out in front of her.

“Are you _challenging_ me?” he spat at her venomously.

“Oh, um, well, no…but—but it is true, Uncle! Father will be angry if we steal kitchen food and Baba complains and then he’ll be in a mood with both of us!”

He was still crouched above her, scowling, “I am stronger than you. Do not command me.”

She straightened up and got back to her feet. Making both hands into fists, she put them to her hips and leaned her face at his.

“We can’t steal. You’re going to get us in _trouble._ I’m in enough as it is already.”

Amaimon scrunched his noise at her derisively, still crouched down near her level. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out all of the little charms he had been conspicuously saddled with during their morning journeys. Holding both hands above Katori’s head, he dropped the contents of each fist directly on top of her.

“Hey!” she yelped, wrapping arms over her head for protection as the sandy shells spilled over her.

She giggled and shook her head when it was over, ruffling her hands through her hair to shake out the bits. She then reached up and grabbed Amaimon’s cheeks with both hands, pulling them back and stretching out his mouth into the caricature of a smile.

He swatted her hands away and stood fully, but she kept jumping on him and reaching at his face.

“Do you even know how to smile?”

He ignored her again and turned his focus back to the food stores.

In an instant, she had scaled the countertop beneath the shelves and stood in his way.

“Ha! And you can’t even use chopsticks,” she laughed, pointing a finger in his face. “You’re like a baby!”

“You’re a baby,” Amaimon glared at her. She really was. He was a thousand years old by now, and this kid had been alive for a speck. How such a weak, pitiful creature could be this bothersome and allowed to survive even for this short time was incredible to him.

“If your father hadn’t threatened me with death, I’d murder you right now.”

“You’re a bad uncle—so mean!” she huffed at him. She reached and grabbed his hand, pulling it with her as she jumped away from the cabinets, “Come on. We can’t take that stuff, but I know where to find snacks.”

Amaimon followed begrudgingly. She had called him a bad uncle, so he should probably follow along for now. He didn’t need her throwing a fit and crying to Samael over his justifiable murder threat.

She dragged him out to a storehouse not far away.

“We bring dinner food in from here to the house so Baba can cook it for dinner. If you want a snack, you gotta come out here for it. The food inside is for her cooking only”

He took off his outermost robe and laid it out flat on the ground. Together, they scavenged around for a bit, Amaimon munching on a raw yam he had found early in their search. When he was satisfied with the pile of foods, he stopped rummaging at stared at it.

“Okay. So that’s enough for you?” Katori asked.

Amaimon took another huge bite of the yam, munching on it with his mouth open.

“It’s fine. Cook it.” He ordered.

“Yeah! Come on!”

She gathered up the corners of the robe to form a sack and struggled with it, just able to drag it using both hands a few paces before Amaimon grew too annoyed to watch her continue. He covered her face with his hand and shoved her back, lightly enough that she only tripped a bit but hard enough to snatch away the food easily from her loosened grasp.

“You’re weak and slow,” he said flatly, staring down at her with the bundle slung over his shoulder.

She beamed at him when she regained her balance. Iza came shimmying out of her collar, joining in the merriment as Katori skipped around his feet in circles with Behemoth while Amaimon trudged home with a frown. Irritated with the constant weaving between his feet, he commanded his familiar to stop and yanked Katori off the ground by her middle, carrying her like a log before she somehow managed to climb around and sit up in his arm. His relief lasted only a moment as the lack of mobility turned her attention only to him, and she chattered at him the whole way home.

He didn’t listen to a word and instead spent the walk home wondering how Samael had tolerated this over the last few years.

 

* * *

 

 

“See? So we put all the tasty stuff in these types of little bowls all around and then you just kind of,” she clicked her chopsticks together in her hand, not sure how to explain the motion to her confused and frustrated uncle.

They sat on the ground by the outdoor table. Katori shoved the board game aside messily and set a makeshift dinner table. She had decided to teach Uncle Emon about both the morality of theft and table manners today.

“Father cares a lot about etiquette inside the house, so you’ve got to get this stuff down as soon as possible or he will be upset.” She sat very straight on folded legs and spoke very seriously.

Amaimon stared blankly at her, leaning forward on the table with a chopstick in each hand.

“Hold them like this, in one hand, see?” She twisted her hand about so he could see from various angles how it was to be done.

“These are dumb.” Amaimon said, nevertheless putting the sticks in a single hand and struggling to emulate her grip.

“That’s good!” she smiled encouragingly at him, ignoring his comment and general sulkiness, “See? It’s like a beak or a claw and now you can just pinch up anything on the table!” She grabbed a broccoli floret and popped it into her mouth to show him.

Amaimon clumsily pinched a mushroom between his chopsticks. Squeezing too hard, it dripped oils and juices as he carefully raised it to his mouth. He lost the balance of tension in his hands, and the mushroom shot away from him on to the ground. He stared bitterly at the dropped morsel, brow creased.

Katori winced on his behalf.

“Almost. Well, mushrooms are kind of slippery, so it’s not your fault. Maybe you should try…rice! Rice is easy! Look. You just sort of shovel it,” she jammed her chopsticks in the pile of rice to show the general, albeit sloppy, technique, “and it just kind of sticks together so then you can just eat it.” And she shoved the blob of sticky rice into her mouth.

Amaimon knew he copied her perfectly, as he was certain there was nothing she could best him at, but for some reason the little grains fell in the space between the sticks when he tried to get rice out of the bowl. When he clenched his hand to stem the falling rice in the center, he squeezed even more out of the sides, so he lurched his head under and around, trying to catch it with his open mouth and tongue.

Katori guffawed at his failure.

“I don’t think father will find this acceptable at dinner either, but I have an idea!”

She scooped the rice out of Amaimon’s bowl and ran inside before he could protest. She was gone a short while and returned with it shaped into a ball with a little seaweed wrapper and a wooden spoon for the sides. She held both out for him.

“Here. This way you won’t starve.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Doesn’t matter what you’re pretending to be, you’re always being a pain in someone’s ass, aren’t you, Sam?”

“How rude of you, Iluhuit”

Baba silenced with a stern look at the use of her name.

Frustrated and so infrequently alone with Samael, she could not contain the questions that bubbled inside her any longer.

“What are you playing at anyway? Did you want her to be properly human or not?” she asked him a little too desperately. The begging rang through in her voice, and she knew it when she saw the flash in Samael’s eyes, but she was too far gone for pride to restrain her feelings now.

“There’s no way you can hide it if she’s hanging around a Baal king all day, every day. You’ve got to let her around other children again or she’ll end up violent and positively feral!”

“As always, I have my reasons, won’t you trust me this time around?” Samael smirked at her evilly, thrilled at the leverage he commanded over the woman. Baba could not bare to look at him, tearing her eyes away from his mocking face and instead staring at her own feet plodding back to town.

“Samael, please,” she started weakly, “I don’t know what you’ve got planned—really, I don’t—but how could you? This can’t possibly be helpful to you. Is there even another king who hates humans as much as he?”

“Oh, absolutely, yes,” Samael sang, closing his eyes and nodding.

When he chose not to elaborate further, she gathered herself and managed to look up at him with pleading eyes, “You told me you wanted her to blend in seamlessly with other people, how could Amaimon be of any use with that? He will undo all of my work if you don’t allow me to—”

“Undo your work? You mean your massive failure?” Samael taunted, “If I wanted a murderous little hellion, I wouldn’t have bothered myself with any of you and just called Amaimon from the start,” he sneered at her hurt expression. Samael was pleased with the effect he had when she was silent a moment at the pain of his harsh words.  

“You know that there was nothing—,” but Samael cut her off again.

“And now,” he interrupted dramatically, “I have got to subdue my own brother and see him slain to clean up _your_ mess.”

“There was nothing I could do,” she managed through gritted teeth. “And you know that.”

 “If you absolutely must have your way, we could, of course, make another little deal if you would like since you’re just _so_ displeased. But I believe you know my cost.”

Baba’s jaw tensed, but she did not so much as glance his way. Samael watched her with hawkish interest as she openly refused to acknowledge him.

“Oooh, so angry!” Samael covered his smiling mouth as he taunted, “I can’t see why. Haven’t I given you the perfect life you always dreamed of~? Your freedom from Gabriel’s tyranny?”

“When will you allow her back in the village?” Baba asked gruffly, feeling defeated.

Oh, they were so complicated, with their little fantasies, petty dreams and nonsensical emotions, but in the end, humans really were just so, so easy. Even the nephilims fall in line. Samael smiled to himself, purposefully taking longer, faster strides to leave Baba steps behind him.

“Is it so hard for you to just trust me?” he simpered over his shoulder, pulling his mask up over his nose as they crossed back into the city.

 

* * *

 

 

Life on Samael’s estate was strange, of course, but over time Amaimon began to notice something akin to a schedule. With the exception of the first day when the earth king was left to nanny Katori, both Baba and Samael stayed nearby all day every day for a week.

Once it was clear he wasn’t going to accidentally murder Katori, the two of them spent most of the daylight hours together largely unsupervised, much to Baba’s displeasure, but since she couldn’t physically keep up with their games, there wasn’t much the old woman could do.

After the first days together, Amaimon had found he quite enjoyed the kid when she wasn’t acting like Samael’s rotten brat. She was not terribly spoiled, but it was worst when Samael, who had proven himself quick to grant her almost any request, was around or, Amaimon noticed, when she was hungry or tired but had not realized it. Annoying as she was in that state, he found he could just grab her by one leg and carry her home while she screamed, keeping his arm outstretched the whole way while she squirmed and dangling her in front of a laughing Samael or a scowling Baba so that they could handle the tantrum.

After the initial surveillance period, Samael left often during the days but was almost always home before nightfall. Baasan left about once a week for a few days overnight, usually returning with a treat or toy for Katori that Amaimon was sometimes able to steal or swindle for himself. He wondered if they had kept this schedule before his arrival, leaving the kid to her own devices since she seemed able to at least feed herself well enough, or if he had somehow been relegated to fulltime nanny in their places.

She couldn’t keep up with him when they played, though not many creatures could, but Katori was entertaining and taught him games. She would keep at it with him for hours, too. Baasan was not really physically fit for such activities. Samael was much too prissy for anything except the board games he would play with her on rainy days. Naturally, it wasn’t long before she adored Amaimon above all else, following him everywhere with shining eyes, bombarding him with questions, and trying to hug and hang from him any time the mood struck her. He often felt amused with her, so he in return tolerated her clinginess as much as he reasonably could.  

When Amaimon was without her, usually Baba and the girl took up some chore together, Samael pestered him endlessly, forcing him to sit for tea and peppering him with questions. What had they been playing lately? What had they been talking about? How was she when her father wasn’t around to make her behave? (Amaimon refrained from informing him she was actually significantly more obedient when he was gone). Had she asked any odd questions? Had she told him anything interesting lately?

He asked if she was strong or smart or a million other things Amaimon knew he wanted her to be.

“She is stronger than a normal human, I think,” Amaimon answered on one particular occasion, though he couldn’t be sure. Humans were so weak and their offspring with demons, while considerably stronger than any human could hope to be, were still so outpowered by a King the difference was negligible from their perspectives.

He thought a moment before adding, “Faster for sure. Common for nephilims I’ve seen before.”

Samael bristled. He insisted she was not a nephilim, but Amaimon had observed no evidence to the contrary and, assuming Samael was telling the truth about her origins—which was a rather big assumption—she was exactly that. The Earth King enjoyed barbing his brother with the comment any chance he got, and there was no reason not to. If Samael’s delusions of grandeur had grown to this extent, he needed some help returning to reality.

The King of Time made a “humph” noise and sulked away with his tea. Amaimon stayed behind to shovel Samael’s abandoned breakfast in his mouth with his hands.

  

* * *

 

 

It was an uncomfortably hot day when Baba asked Amaimon and Katori to help in the garden. They often did of their own accord anyways, but when she found them that afternoon, they were laying on their backs on the wet sand near the shore line, just close enough that every other wave spilled around their bodies, sucking sand back from underneath them when the rushing water retreated.

“Enough lazing,” she called to them, “Get your able-bodies out of there and come help this old woman!”

“Baaaa!” Katori cried, “It’s hot!”

“If it’s hot for you, it’s hot for sprouts. Do you like eating or not?”

“Yes,” the little girl pouted, rolling over and using her hands to push herself up.

Amaimon stayed where he was, enjoying the lapping waves and sun, looking supremely relaxed, and resting his eyes with legs crossed. He laid back, propping himself up on his elbows to keep the ocean water a safe distance from his face.

Katori ruined his plan, dripping on him from above when she poked at his nose.

“You help, too,” she ordered.

His face scrunched and he squinted up at her in the oppressive midday light.

“I won’t,” he told her stubbornly, closing his eyes again.

Katori kicked up sand from under the shallow water, and it splatted all over his chest and neck. Amaimon shot up, glaring at her with bared fangs.

“You little—”

She was already running with Iza trailing behind her, calling to him, “You have to! Come on!”

Behemoth traitorously bounced along after them while Amaimon splashed up some water to get the bulk of the wet sand globs off his skin.

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s too much. Give it.” Amaimon snatched the bucket away from the little girl. Baba had promised them juice and rice cakes in exchange for the task when they returned, and he was growing impatient with Katori’s sloppy work as she struggled under the weight of the water.

In situations like this, she was very obedient and attentive, curious and ready to learn from him. He knew he hadn’t needed to be so sharp with her, but she was also very annoying.

Katori caught on early in Amaimon’s stay that he was significantly better at getting things to grow than she was. Since then she followed him around, always handing items over at his first request quickly and staring in an attempt to absorb his process. She was easily impressed, constantly praising his amazing gardening skills.

The Earth King was crouched down with his feet fixed in the dirt and knees folded to chest level, gingerly running a leaf through his hand, eyes locked on the tiny shoot. Katori was folded in the same position, observing quietly as Amaimon judged the plant. He used his hand to scoop a bit of water and sprinkle it carefully on the soil so that he would not flood the delicate sprout. He flicked the remaining wetness stuck on his hand in Katori’s face.

“Hey!” she flailed a bit, startled and lurching onto her knees to keep from falling backwards.

Her loss of balance pulled her tied-closed shirt open just barely near the neck and for the first time, it happened.

The little pendant she kept around her neck on a sturdy, thin leather string slipped out and hung in front of her, swinging with a glint. It was a key. Amaimon had suspected as much when he felt it on the very first day, and she so carefully tried to keep his touch off of it. She noticed his curious face watching and possessively shoved it back into hiding within seconds of its appearance. Neither of them spoke of it as Amaimon surveyed the rest of the garden, sending Katori back and forth to the water pump until the task was complete.

She was young, but if Amaimon had to guess, Samael had trained her like a dog when it came to that key she held. He had studied her carefully when they played, and she often checked on it surreptitiously (or so she thought) patting on the it through her clothes or running a finger across the back of her neck when the necklace itched her.

He supposed it must be one of Samael’s time keys, but this child seemed to never leave the estate.

She liked to charge into Amaimon’s room in the mornings when she woke up, razzing Behemoth and making his bed slide across the floor when she leaped onto it with her slinky dragon accomplice. From morning until dusk, they ate together, played together, fought together. Practically the only time she wasn’t clutching at him was late in the evenings when Amaimon often witnessed her fall asleep on Samael’s lap, clinging to him until he was certain he could lay her in her room without waking her.

Actually, since their first standoffish meeting, Katori had so taken to her uncle often the only moment’s peace he had from her in a day was his bath. If she were using the key to travel about, he had no idea when she might find the time.

Now that he had seen it, his curiosity could no longer be contained. He was just so interested, and he knew he was much stronger. She wouldn’t be able to resist if he just grabbed it…

Walking up silently, feet barely touching the ground as he levitated a bit behind her, he extended a single claw. He gently hooked the necklace then yanked up inhumanly fast, sure no human could react fast enough to stop the lift. He failed to notice Iza charging him from the side, growing in size as she approached before tackling him. Katori’s little hand fisted around the key, catching it as it flew above her head. Behemoth, thinking a game had begun without him, also ran to the flattened Amaimon, jumping onto his stomach with his tongue lolling out of his smiling mouth.

Amaimon shoved both familiars off of him roughly, throwing them yards away as his snakelike eyes locked on Katori. She stared back at him with wide, scared eyes, ready to sprint away. The key was locked in her vice grip, the leather loop dangling suggestively out of her hand.

He hesitated. If he took it by force, she would certainly tattle on him to her father. Though there was no rule against stealing things from her, he considered Samael might not want him to know about this. If there were too much of a scene, he would find out about this scuffle for sure.

Amaimon decided to try.

“What is that?” he asked coolly.

She only stared back up at him with a crumpled, mad expression, her little angry face barely at hip level for him as he slowly approached.

Taking a step back from him she told him sharply, “Nothing.”

She was too defensive. Worried she might escape, he stopped and crouched down fully, trying to appear unassuming.

Again, he tried. “I want to see,” he said, slowly stretching his open hand out towards her. Another step back.

“It’s mine.”

“Show it to me.” He reached after her more roughly.

“NO!” she said in a voice that didn’t sound like her own, loud and filling the space between them with a resonating energy. Amaimon swiped at her hand through the strange, electric air, but his hand met some hard, unyielding barrier and he jolted back in surprise.

She ran, Iza tearing through the air just behind her. The dragon bowed her head as she approached and smoothly scooped the dashing girl on her back, slithering through the sky like a snake in sand.

Not sure if he should head them off or hide from Samael after he inevitably heard of this, Amaimon waited for Behemoth to return to his side.

“Idiot,” he told the disoriented hobgoblin as he pet him absentmindedly. He waited for a moment before resigning himself to return to the house at a meandering pace, in no hurry to learn the consequences of what he had just done.

 

* * *

 

 

Amaimon’s punishment from Samael never came. What had happened between them, he learned, Katori must have chosen to keep to herself. Still, it was rare even the most mundane events escaped Samael’s watchful eye. He likely knew but was waiting for something else to happen before he intervened.

Whether it was Samael’s will or not, it had been a close enough call that, despite his curiosity, Amaimon didn’t make another attempt to snatch the key.

He lay resting against a tree, lazily munching sweet apples and figs and discarding the cores and stems in a pile by his side. Katori kneeled nearby with a small mountain of flowers and blossoms she had collected. Laughing and weaving together the stems, she looked to him with her big, dumb eyes.

"When were you born?"

"A long time ago."

"How old are you?"

"Old."

"How old?" Amaimon tilted his head back, pressing it a little harder on the tree trunk his back leaned on. This would end if he could only just kill her.

"Older than you."

"How much older?"

Amaimon stared back impassively at her innocent looking face. This was a forbidden topic. He would not budge in his response.

Katori caught on, employing a new tactic almost immediately.

"Do you remember it?" she asked him.

"No," Amaimon answered, and it was half-true. He certainly didn't remember the moment his ego sprouted, but he did remember the moment he was first incarnated on the Earth. He found himself growing suspicious with these questions.

Frustratingly, he saw something flicker in her eyes that signaled this interrogation wouldn’t be ending any time soon. When he watched her face, he could practically see her devious mind churning behind it. Much too similar to Samael. He had found they were horridly alike in that Katori was both straightforwardly persuasive and deceivingly slippery, innately conscious of when small lies and trickery or truth would more easily get her way. Amaimon’s guard was up for the imminent manipulation tactics he assumed would follow from a child of Samael.

"Are you my real uncle?"

"Yes." A quick, simple response.

She knew something, but not knowing what, Amaimon wasn't going to take any chances, knowing his brother would skewer him over a careless mistake. Maybe she was a little sharper than average, but this kid had been alive for a blink as far as he was concerned. He out powered her and out ranked her in every area. He was a demon king after all. Guarded but otherwise unconcerned was probably an appropriate response. Besides, as long as he kept his mouth shut, she really couldn’t do any harm.

She rustled around, humming to herself and fiddling innocently with her flower links. She carefully rocked forward on her knees and fastened the completed flower chain around his ankle. Then placing both of her hands on his knee and thigh, she leaned her weight forward on to him, facing him dead on.

She looked at him with her doe eyes and babyish face. He looked back from down his nose, head still tilted against the tree.

She tilted her head inquisitively. Amaimon broke their little staring contest, closing his eyes as though to rest, hoping she would be bored of him soon and find something else to do.

She didn't leave, though. She didn't move at all.

For a moment Amaimon squeezed his eyes shut tighter, brow crinkled in frustration. With a heaving sigh, he snapped his head back up and opened his eyes only to find her face now inches from his own. The proximity was not unnerving alone; it was her eyes.

Her pupils were noticeably dilated with some strange, psychotic desire. Every part of her soft face seemed suddenly sharp and feral. The nerves in his body flipped themselves over, clicking into place with her at the focal point, hyper aware of her every movement. She looked perfectly human still, but Amaimon sensed a wild energy between them like he had the day he reached for her key. The feeling saturated his senses into an overwhelming state of alarm, and he couldn’t stop himself from registering her as a legitimate threat.

He sat perfectly motionless and offered no visible reaction to her, even when the pressure of her weight on his leg pinched him uncomfortably.

Her wide eyes kept their crazed energy when she asked him gently, "Are you like me?"

She leaned in even closer, trying to drag answers out of his eyes with her own, boring into him for answers. “I’ve never met anyone who is.”

He stared back at her blankly, remaining stubbornly still and suspicious.

She seemed to go back to normal in a snap. She still straddled his leg, fiddling with the flower chains looped on her arm, selecting one and carelessly tossing it on the top of Amaimon's head with a laugh.

"It's too bad you can't see yourself," she said snickering when it settled crookedly on his head. In an instant, her face fell deathly serious again. Suddenly intense eyes piercing into his just as before.

She added just above a whisper, "It's like a crown."

Her pupils were blown out huge, only a tiny sliver of speckled brown around the rim of her eyes, even in the bright midday light.

"It's like you're a king."

This was dangerous.

"Have you got a title, Uncle? A secret name?" she questioned directly, shrunken back, once again, to a light-hearted tone and her normal self and face, harmlessly reordering the chains on her arm.

"No," he lied quickly, starting to attempt to subtly wriggle away, eyeing the dangling key that had slipped out of her shirt again. Ignoring it, she clutched his nervousness instead.

She flipped again, the insane energy back as quickly as it had vanished. He heard the torrential power of blood rushing, a heartbeat that drowned out his thoughts and rattled his core inside his vessel. Whether it was his own or hers, he wasn't sure, but it was deafening.

Now, as a ray of the afternoon sun hit her eyes just right, he saw cracks in the illusion. Her ears were still the tiny, round ears of a human, but her irises quivered and around like a frying, broken egg yolk and inside her pupils was an otherworldly glow he had seen many times. This was the ominous radiance of demonic presence.  A vessel overfilled with the power of a spirit, but who was hiding in this shell? He could sense her nature, but as a Baal, he ought to be able to know her by her presence alone, yet she remained a mystery even so plainly revealed before him.

"I know you're different like me. I know it. You have to be," she said, now breathless while her eyes tremored, swimming with excitement, human and demon traits struggling against each other.

She clamped her grip back on his leg, pressing it down painfully now to keep him from standing. He kept his lips shut but ground his teeth in his mouth. Amaimon could see now, if she were this strong, how she could have accidentally killed before.

She looked away thoughtfully before she tried to strike a deal with him.

"I will tell you my secret name, and then you can tell me yours."

Amaimon's body was buzzing at high alert. She leaned in closer to tell him and her shaky breathing brushed on his face. Between them, the key no longer dangled. It stuck to her skin, unnaturally defying gravity, branding her with a grotesque blister on the skin of her chest where it clung to her while her mouth hovered near his ear.

She didn't wait for him to agree before she whispered with barely contained excitement, " _Amahara._ "

It felt like lightening through his body down to his core. Amaimon hated her, wanted her away desperately. His body immediately reacted to the intense repulsion.

He tried to jerk her off of him, but her hand shot to his wrist and she clamped down now on two of his limbs with more force, than he could overcome with normal, human-passing means. There was no trace of her usual smile or playfulness. Her eyes were blank, over saturated with the rush of power inside of her vessel. Her boring, nightmare pupils dragged and pulled to nothingness. She wanted his answer as urgently as he wanted to escape, and he couldn't shake her away safely.

His body and heart quaked and raged against this creature. He wanted her off. He needed her away from him. For the first time in his existence, he felt a thrill poisoned with something else, some twisted feeling that turned his stomach to stone and pushed needles through his skin. Panic.

Unable to ignore his screaming senses any longer, Amaimon took his free hand and slammed it against her chest inhumanly fast, pulling his punch at the last second to avoid killing her, he hoped. She flew off of him and slammed into a tree back first with a sickening crack. He realized he may have failed at sparing her life.

Iza shot into the tiny grove, tearing grass out of the ground as she launched herself in a bound and a half between the two. She coiled defensively in front of Katori, many times larger than her normal size. Her teeth bared and eyes lit with fire, ready to fight the King of Earth.

Amaimon was already on his feet. Adrenaline prepared his body for the imminent round, Samael's rules forgotten in the frenzy. His teeth bared, claws long and sharp. He growled at the dragon as though daring it to spring forward.

Childish laughter cut between them. Katori was on her feet jumping on Iza and hugging at her neck, smiling as though nothing had happened. Amaimon could see the blood dripping down her back as it stained her shirt and matted her hair. The spiderwebbing of angry, broken blood vessels where he had hit her chest would certainly bruise, but the punch had at least not been lethal. And it certainly should have been.

Iza regarded her master, watching her dive between legs and tickle at her stomach. Katori wrapped her arms and legs around the dragon’s belly, hanging upside down beneath her and laughing. When Iza twisted herself as much as possible to get a good look at the girl, she stuck out her tongue and flung herself back to her feet. She made a show of taking a pointed look at Amaimon and grinned victoriously before she bolted, laughing and running out to the open grass, beckoning her familiar to follow.

Iza recoiled slightly. She shot a warning look to the King of Earth before gliding off after the giggling girl.

Breathing hard, Amaimon shifted to a neutral stance. Behemoth came bounding into view, too late to see the cause of the ruckus himself. Amaimon glared at him, reaching up to touch his head, feeling his exposed green horns near his temples.

Fuck.

Behemoth, hearing the giggling of the girl with her dragon in the distance, began to bounce away toward the fun. Amaimon stopped him with a vicious, ugly glower. Behemoth stilled and flattened in submission, staying by his master's side.

"Come." He commanded through gritted teeth, a violent spark in his eyes.

They ran inhumanely fast straight towards the house, leaping over or shattering obstacles, whichever was faster. Amaimon was furious.

There would be no more of this game. It was intolerable. In the moments it took him to reach the house he decided this would be his revolt against Samael's nonsense.

Amaimon tore into the home, slamming open doors, bee-lining for Samael's room.

He found his brother sitting in his master bedroom, comfortably curled before his desk. He stayed calmly penning letters, with stationary and ink jars scattered about him even after Amaimon burst into the room.

"Hello, my brother," Samael greeted cheerfully without looking up.

Amaimon stormed up to him, cloud of fury hanging above his head, demonic scowl in full force with no effort made to hide his rage. He fisted Samael's shirt in one hand and yanked his brother toward him forcefully, spilling ink across the floor and on Samael's silk robes.

"Why you--!"

Face to face the King of Earth demanded, "Where the fuck did you get that thing?"

Samael, frowning down at his ruined robes and dirty floor, had no reaction to the attempt at intimidation. He instead shifted to his usual lazy smirk, innocently replying, "I already told you. I made her myself. The old-fashioned way~! Did you need a little lesson in human reproduction? Don't tell me you came barging in for the dirty details," he jabbed.

Amaimon scowled and tightened his grip, dissatisfied with Samael's answer. "There's no way that thing—! She isn't a human"

Samael tutted at him.

"Oh, my," he started with a smirk, "Baby Brother is all shook up~! I really thought you would have better developed instincts by now in your old age."

Amaimon growled, refusing to stand down without an answer whether it cost him this body or not.

"What's the matter?" Samael pouted his lips and asked mockingly, "Did she scare you, little brother?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A historical name for Kyoto  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Honestly, I hope you guys are as excited about this chapter as I am! I made a LOT of decisions about the plot after I got this chapter sorted out and I have PLANS FOR DAYS >:)
> 
> It is in the tags that I rated my story for violence, and that IS coming. I will always place warnings at the beginning of the chapter when it happens. I do want to warn anyone reading further that there will be (probably not in the next couple of chapters but soon) very graphic descriptions of violence, abuse (sexual and otherwise), and other disturbing events. It could be uncomfortable or not readable for some, so please protect yourself, but again I will warn before those chapters!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and thank you especially to the thebeingofeverything and nyris for all of the supportive comments on my first ever fic! (Your support is healing my writing shyness!)


	5. Avijja

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Really glad to finally get this chapter out for you guys! The coming month will be busy for me with life things (plus winter is FINALLY over and going outside is a thing again?), so the next update probably in early june!
> 
> But, good news: I've finally gotten around to making a fandom-main tumblr (bloodorange-sorbetto), so you can follow me and/or check in there. So far, i've been using it for mostly AnE/aesthetic things, gathering inspo for this fic and other writing projects. Maybe I can throw up some mood boards or something if anyone's interested too, idk.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my ramblings!

 

* * *

_I. xiii. The Lord instructed to his Arch Angels to protect this race of the Living, for though he made them fragile he had imbibed them with the power of Creation and the freedom of Will and instilled in them Consciousness. And so the plants and animals of this land had unto them a Godly power of their own. He gave to those born of this realm the great power of Making. This was Assiah, the World of Action._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

 

"Didn't I tell you," Samael said with a victorious smirk, "that she is no nephilim."

Closing his eyes and turning his head away with a huff he continued, "So it's unbelievable not even a month has passed, and you've already managed to muck things up! Claws out. Horns out. Is she really so frightening? Don't tell me you pissed yourself, too."

Amaimon growled, angry hands trembling around Samael's collar. Staring back with a frosty gaze, the stronger demon reached up and squeezed his prisoner's hands tight enough to inflict a bit of pain, prying open his fists and pealing them away easily.

"Don't forget yourself, now, Amaimon," Samael murmured with a sadistic sneer. "Here I was thinking you could handle the simple task of watching a child. Are you really so useless?"

Scowling, Amaimon buckled and stood down, heeding the warning and backing away with his eyes downcast.

"Hmph! Well, first things first! Let's deal with you," Samael snapped his fingers and Amaimon's horns disappeared as his ears and fangs shrank down to a more reasonable size. He was passably human once again.

"I suppose I'll handle this little hitch, but you are walking a fine line, little brother."

Grabbing him by his face and holding him by his chin, Samael let his claws dig into Amaimon's cheek, pulling him close to regard him ominously. Amaimon stared back defiantly, seemingly unflapped by his brother's threatening motion, but he felt his heart tremor in his vessel no matter how well he hid the discomfort of apprehension.

"Get it together," Samael let his whispered breath brush across his brother's face before releasing his painful grasp, never once allowing Amaimon to break his menacing gaze, forcing him to fidget under the weight his power.

"You're being unreasonable," Amaimon grumbled at the ground looking forlorn after his release, rubbing at his scratched cheek. "How was I supposed to know? She's strong. And," he added with a furrowed brow, "strange."

"Oh? In what way?" Samael smiled widely, slipping out of his ruined robe and casually rifling through his wardrobe.

"I don't know."

"You'll have to do better than that," he purred over his shoulder.

Amaimon stared back blankly and thought.

What was it that was so repulsive about her? Maybe it was the shock, but he knew there was even more to it than that. He couldn't get a read on who or what she was. Before he had seen her in such a state, Amaimon had no indication or sense at all that she might be anything but a human with a bit of cursed blood.

It had been disorienting.

What kind of demon has no connection at all to a Baal king? Even the kin of others should be at least identifiable, and, most disconcerting, they should above all else be submissive to a king on instinct at that!

Even without explicit command, no ordinary being of Gehenna would cause such blatant discomfort in a king, and judging by Katori's shifty demeanor throughout the entire incident, she had been absolutely aware at the feeling had stirred in the Earth King. A lower demon ought to have felt compelled to bow in the face of the raw power of any Baal unless otherwise directed by their own King. Only the very favorites of high kings ever blatantly crossed even Beelzebub, lowest among them.

If she really were a demon, she was terrible at it. No instinct  _or_ etiquette.

Though he usually despised the arbitrary rules of politeness, Amaimon found that he had quite taken the formalities of behaviors in the context of Gehennian power structure for granted over the centuries now that he had encountered this feral demon-like… _thing_.

And that was another oddity! If she really were a demon, why was she so humanmost of the time?

"I could not tell her kin or her power. In that," he paused, not sure what to call it, before continuing, " _state_  she made me feel…displeased."

Samael looked enormously delighted. With the tiniest of bows he facetiously responded, "Thank you for your astute assessment," before again turning his focus back to his many robes.

He finally selected an equally fine, clean replacement from his wardrobe. With his hand raised near his smirking face, Samael failed at suppressing a fit of giggles at Amaimon's expense behind the silken fabric he held bunched over his month.

"That feeling you're having is what humans call 'fear' by the way," he teased through his mirth. "It's so cute watching you grow up!"

He threw his stylish garment around himself dramatically, disappearing with a pop of smoke before the rustling fabric could even settle or Amaimon could retort.

* * *

 

" _Have I taught you nothing? Take some pride in your humanity!"_

" _Maybe you are willing to turn your back on your duty, your heritage—your inheritance! But I will not relinquish my birthright! The gods—"_

_"The gods are long gone, my daughter. Do not let yourself be swayed by Gabriel's swindling or allow the others' lies misguide you for even a moment on that fact. They are all, every one of them, deluding you with fairy tales."_

* * *

 

With Baba still away, Amaimon enjoyed having the house to himself after his ordeal. He raided the forbidden kitchen stocks and rummaged through Samael's things. He didn't care much for humanity himself, but his brother always seemed to find the most interesting artifacts of theirs to save.

After leafing through curios and toys displayed about the house, Amaimon finally settled on an enormous painted scroll, slowly rolling through the illustrations of a local epic on a pillowy cushion on the floor while he snacked away the afternoon.

It was evening before Amaimon saw Samael or Katori again with Iza trailing behind attentively, a little soldier always looking to the brat for her next command.

Samael carried the girl in. Her hair was wet, and she had new, clean clothes. The evidence of her spat with Amaimon all but erased by the bath.

It at first seemed like any other night when Samael might carry her around after she washed up, letting her roll all over him and play with his hair, entertaining her with little "magic" tricks. But this night, she wobbled unevenly in Samael's arms even though he braced her back with his firm hand, her neat, slick braid swaying with his steps. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she stared blankly behind him with a lifeless expression but seemingly properly human again.

With only a glare, Samael wordlessly commanded Amaimon from his comfortable reading nest so he could set the girl down in the Earth King's place on the warm reclaimed floor cushions.

She wasn't asleep or completely limp, but her limbs were slack, and her eyes were glassed over and unseeing. Her form completely ordinary again, the only thing that stuck out about her was the greening bruise that bloomed from under her shirt.

Frowning at the husk, Amaimon snapped his fingers, moving his hand about a bit in front of her face to get a response from her. Katori turned her head away from the sound and blinked slowly at the walls of the room, letting her neck roll in a big, slow circle with her jaw slack.

"Bold of you to taunt her again so soon," Samael warned. "You'd best leave her be."

"What happened?"

Samael shrugged, stalking off to get his dinner.

* * *

" _The Gods have lost interest in this realm, and the angels are acting of their own accord now for their own self-important purposes. We are alone between jealous angels and insatiable demons, all festering at the edges of Assiah's boundaries waiting to burst through and usurp the earth from our hands. You need not spill the blood of a sacrifice tonight, it pleases them above all else to see us willing to war on their behalf."_

" _That's enough. It's already too late."_

_._

_._

_._

" _An angel has chosen me."_

" _Oh? Is that what he told you? Do you_ really _think you're so special?"_

* * *

 

Katori woke up early the next morning from her uncomfortable sleep. She shook at her grandmother, in the confusing haze that trailed a night of disturbing dreams.

Baba took her to the bath and feed her breakfast all before the sun had even risen.

By the time Amaimon finally woke, Katori was already back to normal, running, laughing and playing first thing in the morning—his morning anyway. Bursting into his room at damn near the crack of dawn with Iza poking out of her collar to wake and pester him as though he hadn't nearly killed her only the day before.

He did his best to carefully avoid her throughout the day, and when night came, she orbited Samael as usual, jumping on him after her scheduled evening bath until he finally gave her his attention to pull back her hair in ribbons.

"I'm hungry," she complained to him as she tilted a crookedly stitched ragdoll back and forth in front of her face.

"You've just eaten!" Samael griped.

"But I am!"

Frowning, but not wishing to tempt another tantrum, Samael acquiesced returning to her with shiruko and rice cake that she jumped up and greedily snatched from his hands.

"No more, and after this, a lesson," he told her with an authoritarian ring in his voice he hardly ever used with her, a little bitter at playing servant for his obstinate daughter.

Katori ignored his bossy tone, eating her treat sloppily, sucking on a spoon and scraping every bit of the sweet porridge she could off the sides of the bowl with the rice cake bits, smearing stickiness over her face. Samael sighed lightly but plastered a smile on his face and wiped her up carefully, brushing her hair back when he was satisfied. He gently took her doll and set it aside, sitting together with her and helping occasionally while she struggled to read a large-print text of a folktale.

"When will Baba come back?"

"Late."

"Can I stay up for her?"

"You can try."

Katori smiled sleepily at him, holding out her arms so that he would hug her. She pressed up against him and he held her back, stroking her to sleep. She halfheartedly continued to read from his lap before she gave in and began to lull off. He didn't particularly want her to see her grandmother yet, so Samael had laid on the charm and comfort as much as possible.

When she fell into a safely deep sleep, he put her in his own bedroom, carefully situating her in the blankets and nestled in the pillows. Iza curled around her, laying coiled upon her head protectively. Samael stopped at the doorway, looking down at them both with his emotionless, glowing eyes for a moment, and then left, sliding the door behind him quietly.

Late into the night, Samael sat with Amaimon in the living room, smoking and pouring cup after cup of tea, quietly fuming and scheming. Amaimon was painfully bored, but he kept to himself, doing his best to roll through scrolls as quietly as possible, knowing better than to engage Samael in his state.

* * *

 

" _Have some faith in your own humanity!"_

" _An angel has chosen me."_

" _Oh? Is that what he told you? Do you really think you're so special?"_

_._

_._

_._

" _Who? Who was it? You have to tell me now, Mapiya!"_

" _That's enough. It's already done."_

* * *

Baba returned deep in the darkest hours of the night.

She was surprised to see the two kings still about so late, but gave them each a hesitant but curt nod and began to wander toward her hall sleepily.

"Not so fast," Samael snapped, mind finally returned to the room after hours of ruminating.

He snapped his fingers and the old woman was turned around in an instant and standing before him. Curious and annoyed by the forcible displacement, she squinted at Samael.

"Why do you always have to—"

"Sweet Oba-chan," Samael sang, light voice never betraying the anger that pierced through his slit pupils, "we've got a bit of a problem." She rolled her eyes.

"Don't we always? What is it this time?" she sighed, rubbing at her face with her hands to pull herself by her own skin from her sleepy haze into full consciousness.

Amaimon watched the exchange interestedly, amused by the brazen insolence from the human toward his brother and excited for what might follow. Though he found himself tormented at Samael's hands, and occasionally lost his temper with this brother, seeing him work on other beings was the height of entertainment.

He had wondered why Samael tolerated such disrespect from a lesser being at all before, but now after what he had witnessed, Amaimon wondered if there might be more to this old lady than he previously realized. Perhaps she could be the same type of demon as Amahara.

Fluidly rising to his feet, Samael regarded both exhausted Baba and lazy Amaimon for a moment, grimacing at them in disgust.

"Useless, the both of you," he griped, crossing his arms.

With an exasperated sigh and a stomp of his foot, Samael transported them all to a hazy, empty space with only a floor to stand on and a small table to sit around. The air around them swirled gently about, but confined itself to the floorspace Samael had created in a place of otherwise nothingness.

He took for himself the most decorative and comfortable high-back chair and gestured impatiently for the others to take a seat. Once they settled, Amaimon and Baba looking to him for his instruction, Samael began the impromptu meeting.

"Seems she's figured it out."

Baba sighed and held her tired head up with a hand, shaking it from side to side with heavy, almost-closed eyes.

"I can undo that easily enough for now. However," he turned his sharp gaze to Amaimon, "it cannot happen again. It is imperative that she  _does not know_ until the time is right."

"Doesn't know?" Amaimon tilted his head inquisitively.

"About kin, the Baal, Gehenna. And most importantly," he said with a pointed glare towards Baba, "angels."

Furrowing his brows in confusion, Amaimon thought aloud, "But she has a familiar and she's seen Behemoth. She must know something."

"Lower demons are fine and Iza…well, Iza is not exactly a familiar, and anyways, this is all beside the point. What's most important is that she can not know any more than she already does, and I can't have any more mistakes. From  _either_ of you."

"Can't you just undo it?" Amaimon asked in a bored, disinterested tone as he picked at his nails. He hated meetings.

Samael frowned.

"No, actually, I can't just do whatever I like when she's in the mix," he explained, flustering a bit and shaking his head. "I can't tell, exactly, what she is capable of since I've kept her suppressed since birth, but I do know that Amahara is…resistant at times to my influence on her timelines. If the event is particularly poignant, she can still sometimes recall it or will repeatedly pull that timeline back."

Amaimon was interested to learn that she had inherited some of the power of time. At least now he knew her kin.

"So, she will remember my horns?"

Baba started, uncrossing her arms with eyes suddenly awake, "Your—what happened?"

"No, no," Samael waved his concern, "and if she does, she's young enough that we ought to be able to convince her it was just some nightmare. Are you sure you can't remember anything else of interest, Amaimon?"

"Well, I threw her, and she's got those deep bruises," the Earth King reminded, tapping his mouth with a claw thoughtfully as he recalled it.

"You what?!" Baba yelped.

"That doesn't matter," Samael dismissed them both flippantly, pressing his lips against his interlaced fingers as he struggled to contemplate his options.

" _Samael!_ "

"It doesn't," he whipped around to face her directly with an air of finality, and she threw her hands up.

Samael turned to Amaimon, staring him down, pressing for more. Finally, Amaimon thought of something more to add.

"When she asked about me," he started slowly, "she kept asking my age, and she made a comment about kings and titles."

"I see," Samael nodded, pulling at his beard, "anything else?"

Amaimon thought for a moment.

"She said she could tell I was 'like her' and that key she wears stuck to her skin after she started acting weird."

Nodding his head, Samael slowly tapped on the table, "Alright. I can handle this, but, Amaimon, you are to control yourself from here on. No more allowances. I don't care what she does,  _you do not respond_."

"Understood."

"And," he added, squinting at Baba, "I'd like to know where these ideas of hers are coming from to begin with."

"Don't start. Children her age are wily enough as it is! Add in the spontaneous inter-dimensional time slips and managing your demon spawn is impossible! Maybe she read it somewhere."

Amaimon's blank face snapped towards Baba, listening intently. Demon spawn…was that possible? Had Samael really achieved it?

"Well," Samael started with a growing smile to mask his mounting frustration with the woman, "whether that is the case or not, as far as I know, no texts regarding the Baal exist in Japanese at this time, so if she's reading it from somewhere, someone must have taught her the language, and you know quite a few."

Baba shook her head.

"No, I've seen it for myself. She sometimes knows things she shouldn't, perhaps a future self has the knowledge, and there is some type of communication."

"Unlikely. That would put her power on level with my own."

"I do not know how she finds these things. Honestly, I don't. The village is clean, she's always with me, you or him," she said, jerking her head at Amaimon, whose face was still leaned in, invading the woman's space slightly.

"Exactly," Samael replied sternly, eyes still on the woman, "so would you like to tell me how this is happening?"

"I. Don't. Know."

There was a tense silence between the two. Neither bending, neither offering their trust.

"Samael, what about—"

"Absolutely not," he knew what Baba would ask before she could even get the words out. "You've got to be mad! Allowing her around other humans right now would be  _absurd_ , especially with rot demons crawling all over the damn place and Astaroth at large. She has had six incidents in as few months and now this."

"And what will you do? Hold her forever? She's tenacious and slippery enough as it is, and she's  _seven_. Do you imagine she'll become more submissive as she ages? Less capable of harnessing her powers? This isn't sustainable! We have to—"

"I will tell you what we have to do," Samael snapped. Baba glared back insubordinately and Samael finally broke, drooping a bit as he let out a sigh.

"It will be better once we have the staff," he promised as a peace offering, leaving her unsatisfied but silent in response.

* * *

 

" _Had we pleased the gods—"_

" _The gods? Do you think the gods care so much for our petty squabbles? Do you think they dip their hands in the skirmishes of man? Any country that has seen war believes it is great. How many of the Great Wars have the gods seen, you think? I imagine they are as unimpressed with this one as all the others."_

* * *

 

Samael's magic, whatever it was, held, and it was as though the incident never occurred. Though Amaimon remembered it clearly, Katori seemed not to. She brought up "dreams" or wanted to play make-believe games that were suspiciously accurate regarding beings of Gehenna, but with the three adults in her life resoundingly responding that none of it could possibly be real, she accepted their lie easily as children often do.

But, as Amaimon soon learned, Samael had not been exaggerating about the frequency of the supernatural tantrums she had. If anything he had understated it, or it had grown markedly worse.

After the first time under the tree, the key stuck to her and took over again within a week.

"Pl _eeeeee_ ase."

"I told you already," Samael said, exasperated, "It's too muddy, and there's lightning."

"I won't even get dirty! I promise!" she whined. Samael grabbed her by her middle and scooped her on his lap, holding out a fist full nuts to placate his admittedly spoiled child. Katori open her mouth and let him drop them in before continuing her pleading.

"But I'm so bored and I won't go far," she turned around in his grasp so she could face him, cheeks still bulging as she chewed.

"I know you are not griping at me with your mouth full of food." She gulped it down quickly, swallowing loudly.

"Why can't I? Why? Why? Why? Why?" she bounced and shook on him with every question, putting every ounce of pleading into her expressive eyes she could muster.

"I already—"

" _WHY,"_ Katori said again, now demanding in the thundering possessed voice. Upon hearing it, Amaimon rushed to peer through the doorway, trying to hastily jam the cherries he'd stolen from the kitchen into his mouth before the action began.

Hovering his hand over the key nestling in her chest, Samael called out to her like a lost pet, "Katori~," but it seemed to have no effect.

Her fist fell down on him and Samael was knocked back before he could get to his feet.

She screamed and threw cushions and shattered pottery. Tantrum in full effect, she wailed and cried at him in the echoing, demonic voice.

"It's not fair! I WANT TO GO OUT," she screamed as her nails went black and sharp and her ears pointed and stretched out.

Gently, Samael approached her slowly with a peace-offering hand outstretched.

"Little princess," he cooed as sweetly as he was able to. "Amahara, we've got to calm down, hmm?"

She glared up at him with pouty lips and a demon's snakelike eyes. Thinking he had an opening, Samael took a step forward and went to pick her up, but before he could hold her in his arms, Katori threw both tiny fists behind her, lurching all the power her body could muster into a resonating, guttural screech.

The house shook and the wooden table splintered apart. The room wobbled and pulled about itself bizarrely, and Amaimon suddenly found himself transported to the opposite entrance to the room.

Samael remained where he stood, unaffected by the tremoring space around the girl but obviously displeased. She screamed until hot blood bloomed to the tips of her pointed ears, tinting them and her twisted face pink. When she could screech no longer, she gulped in air only to throw herself forward and wail again.

Samael pressed his lips together, irritated with the display but not surprised. He snapped his fingers.

The wobbling stilled and the furniture and ceramics repaired and shot back into place instantaneously, but Katori's limbs bound together and she stood perfectly straight, weight on her heels. Samael popped the key away from her chest with a simple gesture of his finger. It shook about on the necklace in front of her but remained out of her body. She remained unnaturally still, standing for a moment before her rigid body fell and seized on the floor.

With her under control, Amaimon walked into the room, throwing the last of his cherries into his mouth all at once as he stood to the side of her shaking body, observing curiously and chewing loudly.

Looking down at her, she stared blankly back. Her eyes were unseeing but streaming tears and rims going red from the turmoil in her struggling body. Thick, slightly frothy spit dripped out of both sides of her mouth as she shook violently where she lay.

Pushing Amaimon's prying gaze away with a frown, Samael nudged Katori's body with his foot to turn her on her side until the seizure was over.

"Get a bowl," he commanded and Amaimon fetched it quickly, not wanting to miss what would happen next.

He returned soon enough with the smooth wooden container to see the most violent of the girl's spasms. Samael watched intently, too, wearing an ambiguous expression that could just as easily be interpreted as one of either amusement or concern.

The shaking stopped as suddenly as it started and with one last twitch, Katori was on her back again, staring at the ceiling above unblinking and completely still save for long, slow breaths. Samael towered over her body, continuing to only watch for a moment after she stilled before he finally grabbed her and lifted her from her armpits, propping her up on a cushion against the wall.

Her eyes were human again, but glassy and unresponsive, blinking slowly at irregular intervals and leaking fluid. Samael snatched the bowl from Amaimon and put it on her lap to catch the oozing drool from her mouth. She didn't move to hold it, only occasionally opening and closing her mouth as slowly as her eyes.

Before she came back around, Samael ran a wet cloth (that Amaimon was also ordered to fetch) over her face to clean her up and snapped away the bowl. She stayed like that, awake but unconscious, for about a quarter hour. A husk that could hardly hold its own head steady.

Eventually she came to fully, starting with slowly bobbing her head around and closing her mouth. As quickly as the falling spell had occurred to begin with, she could see again, and her blinking went light and sharp once more.

She stretched out a bit, pressing on Samael's side with a yawn.

"I'm tired," Katori told him, curling up against him.

"Mhm," he agreed softly, pressing a hand on the back of her head and rubbing with his thumb, goading her to succumb to drowsiness.

He was more than content to pass off the event to her as a simple nap. She had just drifted off and Father had taken care of her and put her to bed after an exhausting day of play, nothing more nothing less…

* * *

" _It's already too late. An angel has chosen me."_

.

.

.

" _Who? Who was it?"_

" _That's enough. It's already done."_

* * *

Katori woke up with a start, eyes open and alert from the nightmare. She didn't move to sit up. She couldn't. She was paralyzed, completely frozen lying flat on her back, bed so sweaty and wet she wasn't sure if she had an accident or not.

The sound of buzzing insects and croaking frogs oozed in her open window while her grandmother snored on her cot on the other side of the room, completely unaware of Katori's distress.

She felt Iza slither off of her head, tail brushing her face and neck as the dragon relocated to a new spot coiled on the little girl's chest. She took care not to scratch with her talons as her front feet pressed near Katori's collarbones, rising up slightly so that they were eye to eye.

Katori's breath shook, and she could only blink in response. Iza poked her snout forward, pressed so they were nose to nose.

_You will be alright, Amahara._

* * *

 

"Come along, Amaimon," Samael chirped, "we've got work to do today!"

Amaimon squinted at the Time King, but stood obediently at his request, following him out the door to stroll through the front gardens. Pacing along together, Samael jabbered as usual—mostly going on about some new imported tea before his conversation with himself completely devolved into topics so boring Amaimon couldn't even follow in passing.

"Oh! And today's the big day!" he sang. "We'll be dealing with Astaroth and his little pet."

Amaimon planted his feet.

"I can't de—"

"You can!" Samael crooned, "and I must insist you do."

Amaimon held his brother's gaze with an impassive expression for a moment, trying to determine if he was actually serious about his order.

"Forgive me, but I don't need another king pissed off at me, Brother."

Samael put a finger to his lips as though in thought, nodding a bit. He tapped on his chin a few times, making some "mmm" noise of agreement. Amaimon bristled at the human-like dramatics of his brother's gesturing, knowing full well he wasn't thinking about anything at all. The decision was already made.

"Well, that may be true, but you certainly don't need me pissed off at you, either. So, who will it be?" he questioned with a toothy smile.

"Oh! Um, Uehara-sama and…um…"

"My brother, Uehara Emon."

"Ah, yes, hello, sir."

"Don't tell me it's a bad time~"

"N-no, of course not sir! Please, come in." The blacksmith's apprentice opened the door fully, ushering Samael and Amaimon into the shop.

Even with their passably human appearances, the immense energy that surrounded the two brother's was smothering and suspicious.

It was no secret that Uehara Shun was a demon, but none of the smiths or temple elders pried. He offered his assistance, and if there were some malicious intent behind his actions, the distant consequences of their deal with him were not an immediate threat. The Impure King's suffocating sickness that afflicted swaths of their homeland, causing thousands to perish, was the most pressing matter.

The brother's cold gazes swept the shop critically, the blacksmithing team's full attention on them the moment they crossed into the threshold. The head smith rushed to meet them, bowing deeply before Samael.

After the respectful greeting he sent his sons and apprentice scattering. They returned with two long packages, wrapped in cushion and cloth and held closed with twine.

Taking the weapon gingerly in his hands, the man offered it to Samael, holding it with both hands before him.

Samael took the parcel, deftly unwrapping the sheathed sword. He turned it over several times in his hands before pulling forth the blade with a hissing slide.

Twisting it about in the light, he admired it murmuring, "Yes, this ought to do quite nicely."

He snatched it up, sheathing the blade once again before Amaimon could touch it himself. The quick motion broke the spell the powerful sword cast over him, and his attention was once again on the men before him. He quirked an eyebrow at them expectantly.

"And the staff?"

The apprentice shifted uncomfortably, and the blacksmith's head bowed slightly.

"Sir, please, I hope you can understand. It-it's been so hard to gather supplies to town given the circumstances—merchants are too scared! A-a-and, well, we just don't have as much experience in such a weapon as we do blade-making…"

Samael's face dropped and he frowned sharply. Amaimon, who had largely passed his time in the shop staring absentmindedly out of a window, noticed his brother's displeasure immediately. He offered his glower as back-up, stepping just behind Samael to face the now squirming humans.

"So, you've failed to hold up our bargain, then?" he asked dangerously.

"No! Forgive me, I meant not exactly, sir. I-I-…well, here," the smith stammered. He offered another, slightly longer parcel to the towering demon.

Samael opened the package just as gracefully as the first but held a sour look on his face all the while. It was lighter than it ought to be.

"We had to use our standard tamahagane for the staff, but the top is all the leftover steel we could recover after molding the blade," he continued nervously. Finally lifting his head he added, "I believe it could still be suitable for hosting a demon's power."

The shakujo was well made, the steel used in the staff was made of high-quality iron ore and the weight balanced well as Samael turned it back and forth in his hand. At the top, with the remaining demon-worthy steel, there were the twelve rings of cause and effect. The symbol of dependent origination. How fitting.

He sighed, "It will do." Still frowning, he added with a sharp look to the metal workers, "But I  _will_  return if it doesn't."

"Of course, sir!" The smith hurriedly bowed, and the other's scrambled to follow his lead.

The two demon kings stared down at them until they straightened up, and the men stood rigidly, nervous under Samael's cold stare and Amaimon's hateful glower (that he still offered in support) until they finally turned to leave. They all sighed in relief when the brother's stepped out their door.

* * *

Katori sat cross-legged on the floor of her shared room, playing with Iza in her hands. The dragon would scurry out of the girl's loose grip, but before she could escape, Katori would capture her in her free hand. They continued their game with mindless fluidity while Baba sat behind them on a low stool, carefully plaiting her granddaughter's hair.

She chuckled to herself and then told the girl, "Ooh, look at this, Katori." She separated a single strand of hair from the others. "It's grey!"

"No it isn't!" Katori insisted, releasing Iza to finally crawl up to the dragon's preferred perch on her shoulder. She clumsily grabbed at the strand Baba held out to her. When she finally managed to pinch it between two fingers, she held it close to her face, squinting her eyes at it.

She gasped when it caught a sunbeam in her room just right and gave a glittering shimmer.

"But I'm not old!"

Baba laughed at her worry. "You're not old," she reassured the girl, "You know what I used to tell your mother a silver hair was? She got a few when she was very young also…"

Katori whipped around, disheveling her hair and ruining Baba's progress on her braid. She almost never heard about her mother. When she was very little, she had thought Baba was her mother, until one of the village children had laughed and informed her that Baba was too wrinkly to be a kid's mom. After that, she had pressed Baba and her father exactly once each for information, but neither would say a word beyond the prepared script of "she was beautiful and loved you very much".

This was a major breakthrough. A story of her mother's own childhood offered freely? Katori put her hands on the old woman's thighs and bounced up and down with excitement.

"What'd you tell her, what'd you tell her, what'dyoutellher!" she chanted, growing more excited and jumping higher with each repetition.

Baba stilled the bouncing by gently clasping Katori's face in her hands, pressing their noses together with sparkling eyes she told her, "I told her every silver hair was a kiss from an angel."

Katori's eyes grew wide and she beamed.

"Wow! Is it true? Really?" She grabbed a few strands and searched for the grey hair among the other, darker strands in vain.

Baba only smiled. She put her hands on Katori's shoulders and spun her back around, pressing lightly to encourage her to sit once more.

Clicking her tongue with twinkling eyes, she sighed, "Ahh, it's all undone. We'll have to start over. Give me the comb."

Katori handed it to her, twisting back to steal another glace at her grandmother.

"Do you know any more stories about Mom?" she asked.

"Oh, of course. Plenty of them," Baba nodded, placing hands on either side of Katori's head to guide her back around. Katori deflated a bit, slouching forward a little and gesturing for Iza to come back down from her collar and play. She knew the cryptic response meant that there would be no stories today.

"What's the matter?" Baba asked as she nimbly sectioned Katori's hair once again. It was hard, she had to admit, as the smooth thick strands slipped into place, practically falling into place in the braid under her expert hands, not to remember young Mapiya sitting on the ground before her in just the same way.

Katori's face and mannerism might be all Samael, but her demeanor and spirit came from Baba's daughter.

"I don't get to know my mom," Katori said quietly. "I thought you were my mom until Genki—"

"It's rough, losing out on a parent," Baba cut her off with an understanding pat. "But, if you hold still and let me finish, I've got something for you."

At that, Katori straightened her back, trying to immobilize herself completely until the braiding was done. By the time she felt the pulling of a ribbon being fastened at the end of her plait, she could barely contain herself and sprang up, looking to her grandmother expectantly.

"You can only have this because you're getting older. You'll have more responsibilities soon," Baba told her with a warning tone. Katori nodded seriously in response.

"And," Baba pulled the girl in close, taking an exaggerated look over her shoulder, "it has to be our special secret, okay? No one else but you and Baba. Do you think you can do that?"

Katori nodded vigorously again.

"Are you sure? I would be just so, so upset if  _anyone_ at all were to find out. Maybe you're not old enough yet…"

"No, no!" Katori swore, "I won't tell anyone! Not even father."

Perfect.

"Very good. Just a secret for us girls, hm?" She pinched Katori's cheek and then rose from the stool. She opened her trunk stored tidily against a wall and rummaged through it a moment before procuring a small box wrapped in cloth.

A gesture for Katori to join was all the invitation the girl needed. She was at her grandmother's side in an instant, peering curiously at the box as the woman unwrapped it carefully. She opened the box and there was another, silkier fabric inside folded over the object inside. Holding the box out to Katori, Baba told her to unwrap the gift carefully.

Inside the folds of the fine cloth, Katori unraveled the prize. A perfectly smooth, black mirror.

"That was your mother's own mirror. It's obsidian and very rare, so you must be careful with it, do you understand?"

"Mm," Katori agreed, though her eyes remained transfixed on the curious object as she turned it around, staring at herself and turning it to catch the light at different angles.

"You have to keep it in here, but it's yours to use any time you like," Baba promised her.

Katori held the mirror with both hands a moment longer, turning it back and forth so her face was at the center, then Iza's.

"Wow," she breathed.

She carefully laid the shining, round piece on its protective cloth and then threw her arms around her grandmother.

"Thank you, Oba-san."

* * *

 

Samael turned to Amaimon and held out the sword. The younger demon took the sheathed blade, excited to hold a weapon for the first time in months.

Sensing his excitement and intent, Samael cut Amaimon's imagination short.

"You are to present that sword to Fukaku and summon Karura. Order him to submit if he will not obey the monk. He's under Lucifer's command to defer to us for the sake of this mission."

"When did that happen."

"Doesn't matter!" Samael said lightly with a wave. "Also, recall your rules~! You are not to harm a  _single being_ , human or demon, on the way."

Amaimon's face fell slightly.

"I thought you wanted me to fight," he complained.

"Did you not tell me yourself that you could not have another king upset with you?" Samael said with a huff. His brother could be just so simple sometimes. "Karura can handle the king easily, but stay until the battle is surely over and won. Make sure that filthy rot demon is properly sealed before you return."

"Fine. So I just give him the sword and call Lucifer's pet firebird."

"Oh, no! You can't just  _give_ it to him. You need to  _present_ it to the monk. It needs to be," he tapped on his lip, looking up thoughtfully, "otherworldly. Make it clear that you're not a human, you're a powerful being. It should be theatrical, exciting, overwhelming. You know, dramatic!"

"Dramatic?"

"Yes! Come down, looking powerful. Maybe a nice wind gust to sweep in on…? Put on a show! Human lives can be so dreary after all. Give them something to talk about."

"But don't hurt anyone?"

"Correct."

"Understood," Amaimon said forlornly. Hardly a reprieve from his imprisonment, and Samael's requests were absolutely ridiculous as usual, but it would still be nice to have a change of scenery. He couldn't hurt the man, but just rattling humans could be fun, so he would make the most of this opportunity at least.

* * *

.

.

.

_"Not knowing suffering, not knowing the origination of suffering, not knowing the cessation of suffering, not knowing the way of practice leading to the cessation of suffering: This is called ignorance. It leads to action, or constructing activities."_

_-SN12.2 on avijja_

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shiruko: sweet bean paste - I wasn't sure what kind of dessert would be around during this time period (or what would even be reasonable?) so I went with this. Anyone with any culinary history expertise please give me a shout cause this has been the hardest info to find.
> 
> shakujo: Buddhist monk's staff (like Shima's!); the number of rings are symbolic (4 = four noble truths for example)
> 
> tamahagane: high-quality japanese steel
> 
> The SN12.2 quote is the translation from wiki!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and please drop a line and let me know what you think!


End file.
